The Door on Time (or - How to fuck up History!)
by 42Lia
Summary: There is a door locked away in a castle that doesn't exist. This door should never, ever, be unlocked. Why? Because Time is dangerous to play with. Arthur prays he can fix this before another dead bastard rises from the dead. As if the Roman Bastard wasn't enough already! Oh yeah, and Alistair will get mad. [Sequel to Land of Legends and Secrets] - Various Pairings -
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Memories we cherish**

**AN: Alrighty! This is Land of Legends and Secrets - Mark II! Hope you all enjoy it and hopefully all your questions from the previous story will be answered. This one might be (probably will be) longer and more complex but I hope it will meet all your expectations. Oh and it will still keep its crazy/confusing/out of this world kind of feel. Its just that there will be more characters joining the party!**

* * *

_Beautiful emerald eyes blinked open for the very first time and the first thing they met was the intense crimson and identical emeralds. A smile welcomed her and the newly born child felt warm strong arms hold her close to a warm broad chest. It felt safe and familiar. She naturally snuggled closer, breathing in the scent of wild mountain flowers and wet wood after the rain. A large hand ruffled her mop of golden hair and a voice whispered in her untrained ear._

"_Welcome Albion. Welcome to the world my sister."_

_She let out a delighted laugh and the entire forest resonated in synch with it. In a world of green, the rain drummed down on them, celebrating the birth of a new life._

_And that is how it all began._

* * *

"_No! Alba! Cymru! Eir! Alba! ALBA! ALBA! ALBA!"_

_The calls sounded empty and lonely, cancelled out by the heavy tears of the sky. She felt scared and hurt. Her people's pain … she felt it like poison running through her body. Their cries of war and agony rang in her voice, driving her mad. And all she could see … was the intense crimson. But no emeralds. Just pure red._

_Blood._

_Her white robe was torn from her running in the woods. She could no longer feel the protection of her mother and father. Nothing. All she felt was the loud drumming of her heart and the dread growing in her as she witnessed disaster. She watched them fall. One after the other._

'_Don't get back up! Please! Don't! Don't fight! Stop! No more!'_

_Cymru was down first, his head hitting against a tree and his arm twisted in an unnatural way. He was breathing, thank the gods! Then Eir. He was sent flying, a deep cut across his face and left eye. It will probably leave a scar. But that was nothing compared to Alba._

_Alba._

_Alba._

_ALBA!_

"_ALBA!"_

_No matter how many times he got punched, cut, hit, kicked, slashed, the young red hair just wouldn't give up. The older man hissed in annoyance upon the pathetic sight of the boy getting back up once more. He was covered in blood as red as his hair and his emerald eyes glowed of an insane rage and battle-thirst. The taller and older man smirked despite his irritation. He had to congratulate the determination of the young nation. Brave young little nation. Foolish little nation. So foolish._

"_You should have stayed down, boy. I'm not here for you. You know what I am looking for now hand her over."_

_Alba growled but his throat burned with each sound he made and he barely managed to breathe. Having Rome crush his throat was not really helpful in making him talk, was it? Not that he would talk either way! He'd rather be sent to hell! Instead, the boy spat at the Roman's face, earning himself a dark angry glare from the golden eyes of the invader._

"_Foolish boy."_

_The screams resonated across the mountains and the land cried in agony. She watched in horror as Rome purposefully broke one by one the boy's limbs. Slowly starting with the legs and finishing with the arms, and each time, he would take his sweet time so that Alba truly felt the pain and agonised as much as possible. Before breaking each limb, Rome would repeat his question but Alba never answered. Silently, the boy prayed his sister had time to escape._

"_With this, you won't be getting back up anymore."_

"_FUCK YOU!" the boy yelled with a broken voice. The Roman stared down on him, an insane look in his eyes as he smiled eerily._

"_Is that so? Maybe I should silence you permanently, little pest that you are!"_

_The blade rose high. Alba watched with fearful eyes at the sword as it moved towards his neck. This was it. He was going to die. And nothing can protect him anymore. Slowly accepting his fate, the boy watched the blade grow closer. It all felt like time went into slow motion. Maybe that's why he was shocked to see a flash of gold and white. He didn't even have time to shout and could only stare with horrified wide eyes._

_Rome's eye twitched and he restrained the shivers of his body, his golden eyes frightfully staring at the small druid child. Golden long strands of hair fell to the ground along with drops of blood. But standing tall and protective, Albion held her arms open and her position in front of her fallen brother. Her hair had been cut short and a cut ran down her cheek, blood sipping out of the wound. Her neck held a soft grazing mark and had barely avoided the impact had Rome not changed the trajectory of his blade at the last minute. Her cat-like emerald eyes glowed brighter than any jewel on the planet or any star in the universe. Her white robe tainted of blood._

_Not her blood._

_Rome's golden eyes met the furious emeralds of the young girl and he could not understand why he felt his world stumble or his body freeze. He felt his pulse accelerate and … was that fear he felt? Impossible. Not from such a young nation barely able to stand on her two feet! And a woman at that! A barbaric woman from the north barely able to stand as a shield for her pathetic excuse of a protector. He could not be afraid of that!_

"_ALBION! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND! WHY DIDN'T YOU HIDE LIKE WE TOLD YOU! YOU SHOULD HAVE RUN! RUN! RUN ALBION! AL- …" The desperate boy silenced his broken voice as he felt a soft hand caress his cheek fondly. Albion smiled at him warmly and kissed his forehead._

"_Alistair … I'll protect you. All of you. It's my fault. I'll fix it. I'll fix it all and you won't have to be in pain anymore. I promise." She kissed him again, on his lips this time. Not a lover's kiss. Nothing of the sort. She was simply sealing a promise. This was a promise she made to her most precious person in the whole world: her brother._

"_Aly … please don't … don't you dare …!"_

"_I love you, Alba. And I love Cymru and Eir too. And Mum and Dad. And I love you the most! So …"_

_She silenced for a short moment, emeralds boring into emeralds. Time seemed to stop before Albion spoke her last words._

"_Please live."_

_With that said, the small 7 year old looking girl walked away and towards Rome, leaving the 14 year old boy to his despair. He called her desperately but she never turned back once. He cried her name but his tears melted away with the rain. He cursed the smirking man carrying his precious sister away but his body remained frozen to the ground. And after that, all was left was the painful silence of defeat. And he cried. And cried. And cried._

* * *

"_I didn't think you'd show up to me of your own will!" The Roman smiled amused at his new conquest. He didn't know why his sister had requested him to check on that child but he didn't regret it. The blond girl was adorable. Especially wrapped up in chains and glaring savagely and hatefully at him. Cute as a wild kitten~!_

"_Remember our deal, Roman." Her voice sounded too mature for the childish pitch it held but then again, nations evolve differently from normal humans. Despite being in the body of a child, the mind could be one of an adult. Rome hummed a chuckle._

"_Who would have thought? That all I had to do to make you mine was the break down your precious brothers!"_

"_Our deal!" She hissed threateningly, causing the man to laugh loudly._

"_Do not fluster yourself, kitten. I will hold true to my word. I shall not harm either of your siblings as long as I obtain your full cooperation as my loyal servant."_

"… _Yes Master." Albion bowed her head and shed a silent tear that she refused to show her new master. In her mind, she could still hear her brother's cries calling for her._

_He shall be safe and the blood shed for her safety shall be repaid by her own. Nothing else matters._

* * *

Ever since a year ago, strange things have occurred in Feliciano Vargas' life.

1 - He's the only one who remembers the death-games with Alice in that freaky castle

2 - He realised that he's in love with Arturo but recently rediscovered the memory of his lost forgotten love Albion, also known as Alicia

3 - Can the dead come back to life? Because …

"Nonno! Where the fuck did you put my laptop, dammit?!"

"The hell are you calling 'Nonno'?! I'm the Roman Empire! Don't you forget it, squirt!"

"I don't give a fuck, just give me back my fucking laptop!"

"I don't have your devilish device thing!"

"Sure you don't! I saw you look up porn on it the other night!"

"What's wrong with admiring beautiful women?"

"Do it on Stupido's laptop, you pervert! You're worse than France!"

"Who the fuck is France?"

And it went on and on and on until Feliciano called them both for either lunch or dinner. Really … things could not get any weirder. Not only did his long-dead Nonno return to life (and was speaking only Latin which doesn't help in the world considering it's a dead language) but he also seemed to have come back younger than Feliciano has ever seen him. This was not his Nonno. Not yet. This was still a young Rome in the early prime of his Empire. He still hadn't conquered others except current Italy and Greece. And of course, he doesn't know a thing about his future heirs. The only reason the old nation hasn't left the house in over a year is because nobody aside from Lovino and Feliciano spoke Latin.

"I hope Arturo finds a way to fix this soon …"

* * *

_**Flash back of a year ago in Canada ...**_

Arthur blinked in shock and Feliciano almost saw fear in his green eyes as the man came face to face with the younger version of the Roman Empire. He barely looked older than his early twenties and was scowling a dark glare similar to Lovino's if not darker, when the memory of the Roman Empire in Feliciano and everyone's mind is of a cheery man in his late thirties.

"Who the hell are you people?" The old nation spat coldly in Latin. Needless to say only a handful of nations understood him.

Oddly enough Arthur understood him, which surprised most Latin-speakers. Feliciano tilted his head as he heard the blonde Englishman answer back to the Empire.

"The future. And you've clearly been dragged out of your time frame by someone. We'll need to send you back." Arthur's tone was harsher and colder than Rome's and the (future) older man must have noticed as he suddenly showed _some_ interest in _someone_ since the moment he woke up in this future world. His eyes looked Arthur down, gauging him, and Feliciano felt a twinge of anger at the wandering look in his (future) grandfather's golden eyes.

"The future? You people? Nations?"

"Yes. And I'll send you back personally."

"_Personally_? Hm … does that mean I get to know you _personally_?" Rome's face turned from furious and threatening to teasing and seductive. Much to many nations' surprise (and anger) but Arthur barely lifted an eyebrow at the comment.

Nothing new here. That's definitely Rome.

The blonde smirked back and took a step closer to the Roman. For a split second, Rome didn't understand what was happening and he suddenly felt his toga being yanked forward and his face inches away from the smiling face of the Englishman, an eerie aura of promised death emanating from the blonde.

"You'd be wise not to try and get too personal with me … you'll most likely regret it." The British Empire purred and was glad to see the Roman shiver slightly. Arthur then turned his emerald eyes to the worried Italian nation.

"I need to make a call. Give me one year and I'll get him back to where he came from."

Feliciano nodded, unable to speak another word as he watched the growing darkness invade Arthur's beautifully featured face. He didn't like seeing Arturo angry. He wanted to see Arturo smile. And be happy.

"Bloody Latin wanker just couldn't stay in his bloody timeline!" Arthur mumbled to himself but Feliciano heard him. The Italian could only wonder how Arthur knew Rome, and how to speak Latin. Now that his memory was fully recovered, Feliciano was well aware that Alicia - Albion is still alive and was taken over by Rome years ago. But not Arthur - England.

Feliciano shook his head and turned to see his (future) grandfather staring at Arturo's lower-back.

This is not going to be an easy year.

* * *

The tall man in white checked his pocket watch, the golden chain hanging from his waist-coat polished to a perfect shine. Midnight. It's time. He claps his hands, the candles light up. He points at the cold fire place, roaring flames rise. He glances at the table, dishes blink into existence all more succulent than the other. He snaps his fingers, the piano's keys come to life and a soothing melody invades the castle. Standing proudly at the door, he smiles in satisfaction at his work before facing back to the large wooden doors. Moving into a bow, the doors opened and revealed to him the approaching figures.

"Welcome home My Lady."

She smiled. Her hair looked shorter. Had she cut it again?

"I'm home." She spoke and walked in followed by another man.

"Master? Will you be staying too?"

"Just dropped her off. I have to attend parliament tomorrow. You'll manage, right?" He asked while glancing worriedly at her. He always worried, even after all those years. She nods.

"I haven't died of boredom yet." She joked lightly but that only increased his sadness and a guilty expression took over his facial features.

"I'll find a way to make it permanent one day …" He mumbled more to himself but he soon fell silent at the touch of the girl's hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry. I can manage. Go. Meeting." She shoes him out and closes the doors herself.

Leaning against the closed doors, she waits until she hears the distinct sound of the man's vanishing, the sound of a firecracker followed by a soft hum and a blue light. Once she was sure that he was gone, the girl turned back to her butler. Tall, white, pocket watch in hand and red eyes awaiting his orders. She smiles.

"Let's go bunny, I'm starving."

The sky outside was clear blue and the sun shone as bright a golden as her hair. The man grinned maliciously and motioned her towards the dining room.

"At your orders, Mistress."


	2. Imperium Romanum

**Chap 1: Imperium Romanum**

"_Feliciano …"_

_The brunet shivered of pleasure once he heard the soft loving voice call his name. Deep and low, sensual with purrs, so unfamiliar yet he knew those sounds so well. His chocolate eyes gazed up to meet the emerald greens above him. So deep. So mysterious. So full of secrets. They drowned him in a sea of madness … and Feliciano never resisted. Lifting his hands up, he embraced the other, drawing the other's body closer. His hands ran through the silky feeling of the pure gold of his partner's hair. His smooth milky skin without a single imperfection was to die for. He kissed the pale slender neck. A soft chuckle replied to Feliciano's eagerness. But …_

_That sound …_

_That voice wasn't the same as before …_

_This laughing voice was clearer, lighter, higher. It had a sweetness to it the other didn't. It sounded like chiming crystal. Wha …? Feliciano looked up with a frown. He still met the deep emeralds. His hands were still lost in the golden locks. The skin he was kissing was still as pure as snow. And the smile of his partner … it never changed._

_A large smile. A smile that showed so much yet hid even more. It showed love, lust, desire, admiration, delight, eagerness … so much. Yet Feliciano could feel the hidden emotions behind it … so many more. A tear roll down the pale skin of the other's face. Feliciano's eyes widened and he hastily pressed his thumb against the tear to wipe it away. He kissed the other's eye only to feel more tears flowing. Yet, the smile never faltered. And Feliciano was amazed at how beautiful that person was … so beautiful …_

_He leaned in closer, his lips closed in gently over the soft ones of the other. What sweet flavour … Never before had Feliciano tasted such sweet and soft lips. His partner leaned in forward, deepening their kiss and Feliciano was all too happy to oblige. In fact, he was more than happy. He was ecstatic. And he had no idea why. He just was. And he liked it … no, he loved it!_

"_Feliciano … I'm sorry." The voice rang in Feliciano's head._

_He opened his eyes in panic, expecting to see those emeralds he loved so much, that gold he admired, that pearly white he craved for, and that smile he couldn't forget. But he was left with nothing. Absolutely nothing. He was alone in this pit of darkness. Flames grew around him, screams and shouts. He heard someone call him but Feliciano ignored them. His eyes searched around, looking for that person. He spotted something. In the heart of the raging flames, in a pool of blood, a figure stood, holding a broken bow in one hand, and an empty gun in the other. Feliciano recognised the gold, the white, the emeralds, but he saw no smile. Only tears. Red tears. The figure shifted slightly and tilted his head, green eyes met amber ones._

"_I'm … sorry." The person mouthed but no sounds came out. Not the deep purring voice nor the chanting crystal one. It was just emptiness. Feliciano ran to the person. He didn't care if he burnt himself. He didn't care if he died. All he wanted was to catch that person. He had to! Because he knew … he knew that if he didn't … if he was too late … that person would …_

… _disappear._

_Feliciano felt tears roll down his cheeks as he saw the figure burn up and all Feliciano was left with was a single white feather. And he couldn't even catch it before it burnt too, along with its owner. Feliciano cried. He cried enough to drown the fire but not enough to bring back his loss. He cried. He cried because once again he had lost his precious love. Once again it vanished and he would never see it again. Once again … he was left alone, untouched, surrounded in ashes._

"_I'm sorry …" the words rang in the emptiness like a curse._

* * *

Feliciano groaned as he woke up and felt oddly cramped up in his bed. He didn't need to look around to know why his bed felt smaller than usual. It's a king size bed that he likes to share with his brother when they are both staying in their house in Rome. Their separate individual houses are located in Florence and Naples. But the Italians both enjoyed spending half of the year in their common house in the Italian Capital. It's not only because it's their capital, or because it's half way between North and South. The reason, neither of the twins could bear to let go of the fabulous city of Rome is quite simple: It's Rome. _The_ Rome. _Roma_. The heart of Italy but mostly the heart of the Imperium Romanum. Said Imperium Romanum is currently sleeping alongside the twins in bed.

Feliciano refrained from waking up his grandfather to ask him to go back to his own guest bed. It would only make the man grouchy and irritable. In that sense, Feliciano noticed that the young version of his grandfather resembled Lovino a lot … in worse. Holding a whole year with this familiar yet complete stranger was difficult. And convincing Rome that he and Lovino were his grandchildren was still a pending matter. The ancient just could not accept that his heirs could be so … _weak_.

Feliciano shivered at the word. The way his grandpa had spoken it with disgust in his voice and distrust in his golden eyes … Feliciano could not help but feel ashamed of himself. He had tried once … he had tried so hard to become a strong Empire, when his Fascist regime was in power he nearly did, but Feliciano remembers those dark times and the way it clouded his mind and judgement. How it had changed him. How he felt like a different person and he feared what he might have become had his Fratello and Arthur not stopped him.

Arthur …

Thinking back, Feliciano realises that Arthur has never been a threat to him in any way, unlike other countries. More than once did the Northern Island take in refugees from his own country, integrating the Italians to his own people. Many times did Arthur support and side with Italy in wars. Feliciano never noticed how helpful Arthur had been. He never tried to invade him and his government kept a distant tone with Italy. Not friends. But not enemies. Barely acquaintances.

Feliciano wondered why he hadn't become friends with Arthur.

Why?

After all … he remembered meeting the blonde Englishman more than once. They even lived together under France's guidance at some point. Feliciano remembers that time clearly now … over the past year, so many memories had resurfaced, buried for so long in doubt and fear. Always fear.

He truly did fear England.

Not because Arthur is scary. Far from it. Feliciano never really thought the blonde to have a scary aspect. If anything … he was delicious to look at. Like a rare treat or a precious jewel that you fear to spoil. It's not Arthur that is frightening. It's the confusion he brings in the Italian's heart that scares him.

Each time Arthur looks at him, Feliciano feels his heart make leaps and bounds.

And he can do nothing but run away.

Each time Arthur speaks, Feliciano feels shivers rush down his body at the beautiful sound of his voice.

And he can do nothing but run away.

Each time Arthur walks his way, Feliciano feels his body sweat a river and his face burn brighter than blood.

And he can do nothing but run away.

And run.

And run.

Like he always does when he panics.

He runs.

"_Run Feliciano! Run! And never look back!"_

Arthur … is terrifying.

* * *

Romulus heard a soft whimper by his side. Cracking one of his golden eyes open, he frowned at the sight of his 'supposed' grandchild in tears by the side of the bed. Over the past year, Rome had learnt to differentiate the twins and was almost certain that the weeping idiot was Feliciano. He's the weakest of the two brothers. How could someone so pathetic be his future grandson?! This is preposterous!

The man refrained a growl of irritation and simply watched the sobbing nation. The boy looked young. As young as himself. The more he stared at the Northern Italian the more irritated Rome got. Not because he felt resentful. Not really. Or angry. Or spiteful. He didn't care that these Italians were his supposed heirs. He didn't care for them. At all. But the irritation was still there, nagging the back of his mind and a buried memory he so wished to forget threatened once more to torment him.

"SHUT UP STUPIDO! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP DAMMIT!" The sudden yelling on his other side nearly made Rome jump.

A pillow flew across the bed and hit Feliciano's face. The Northern Italian started to weep louder and babble complains to his angry older brother. Lovino yelled back, annoyed to have been woken up this early (11:45) and cursing the entire world for his foul mood. Rome stayed silent and kept pretending to sleep, listening at the interaction between the brothers.

"Fratello! That hurt! Why are you hitting me?"

"Stupido! It's your fault! Why are you whining like a little girl this early?! If it's another one of your stupid nightmares then you better find a way to make them stop! Otherwise, I'm calling Arthur so that he puts a sleeping spell on you!"

"Ve! You can't! I don't want Arturo to know about my dreams!"

"Well neither do I! Why are you always dragging me into your fucking fantasies?!"

"Ve? Fratello? You saw my dream again?"

"Si! And it's getting really frustrating! Make it stop some way or another, bastardo!"

"But I'm trying! It's not my fault!"

"Then whose fault is it?!"

Another pillow flew and another whine of Feliciano.

Roma sighed. With all their arguing, no chance would the twins notice him.

Twins …

Why is it that they always get twins upon this land?

The Ancient nation shook away the uneasy thought and the memory of a young boy. He didn't want to think about it. He did what he had to. It's over. He didn't want to remember. Never.

"Go make us breakfast, Stupido while I take a shower!"

"Ve! What do you want to eat, Lovi?"

"Whatever! Just make it quick!"

"Hm … Pasta!"

"NO PASTA! PASTA IS NOT A BREAKFAST! HOW MANY TIMES WILL I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT?!"

"… Pizza?"

"You're fucking clueless!" Romano rolled his eyes before marching to the bathroom and shutting the door. Feliciano blinked a few moments before skipping happily to prepare breakfast … and probably pizza.

Romulus allowed himself to move as he was certain to be alone in the room. Those two … he really hated living here. More than anything, these annoying Italians were making him remember uncomfortable things. He wanted to go back to his own time and forget about this pathetic future!

"I hope the Celtic boy will have it sorted out soon." He growled while his thoughts turned to the blonde Englishman.

He was cute, he had to admit. His golden hair was so unusual and reminded him of Germania's hair. His beautiful green eyes … typical of a Celt. Romulus vaguely wondered if he could possibly find that young nation back in his own time? He licked his lips with a hungry glint in his amber eyes and a dark chuckled escaped his lips.

* * *

Arthur stared with an irritated expression at the crystal lock.

Well, that explains it all. But how could it be broken? How could someone have … and since when?! Just how long as that lock been like this?! Arthur tried to recall but nothing came to mind. He was certain to have checked the lock each time he came to the Kamaaloth. So why was there a crack in it now?!

"And just before my next change. Great. Well at least now I know how the Roman bastard got here. I hope we can fix this and send him back before any other dead bastard comes out of the grave!" The blonde sighed before glancing at his butler.

"And you have no idea of when this happened?"

"My apologies, master but I do not take a habit of checking this door. I called you as soon as I noticed the anomaly. But, may I ask, what troubles you so much?"

"You know Bunny, playing with time is not that big a deal as long as your actions remain shadowed and insignificant. But on this kind of scale … I knew we should have sealed it off completely … I need to call Alistair."

"Shall I also contact Master William, Master Patrick and Mistress Fiona?"

"Yes … and bring me some tea, I'll be needing a drink to calm down." Arthur grumbled before storming off to his library and began to flip over pages and pages of old forgotten books. One of them is bound to have an answer on how to solve this … right?

"I really wonder who could have enough magical power to force the lock …" Arthur mumbled but his attention was soon drawn by the sudden arrival of his loud crimson haired brother.

"Arthur! What did you call me here for? It's not time yet, is it?"

"Library!"

Alistair popped his head inside the massive library, ignoring the flying multi-coloured rabbits, the squeaking faeries, and the librarian Leprechaun with his too-tall hat. His emerald eyes narrowed curiously on his brother at one desk with his glasses on his nose, and a cute frown on his serious expression.

"Why so serious, lad?"

"Help me look for a solution." Arthur snapped, not even looking up to greet the older man. Slowly, Alistair strolled to his brother's side and looked over his shoulder at the book he was reading.

"A seal? I thought we were meant to find a way to send the Roman bastard back to his own time?"

"Yeah. That's what I'm doing."

"Right. And the seal is for …?"

"I found out how the bastard got here."

Alistair's eyes widen slightly. The entire British Isles had searched countless places and countless possibilities to explain Rome's sudden apparition in the future but so far no luck. And without knowing how he got here, they could not figure out a way to send him back.

"You did? How?"

"Bunny called this morning. Guess what?" Arthur looked up and Alistair understood from his expression the gravity of the situation. For Arthur to be this anxious, it must be really bad.

"Aye?"

"The door's lock … it broke."

Alistair didn't need to ask which door. In this house, there is only one door with a lock. And it's meant to remain locked. His emeralds flashed in sudden anger and worry.

"Bollocks." He mumbled and joined his brother as they pealed book after book.


	3. Athena - Guardian of Dreams

**Chap 2: Athena, guardian of Dreams**

* * *

**AN: I just realised I didn't give you guys the main pairings that would occur in this story, so here they are:**

**Main England x Veneziano (N. Italy)**

**One-sided England x Many others (because I like England x World and if you don't - LEAVE! - Besides it will make sense with Alice's character taking more importance.) ["Many others" would be: Romano (S. Italy) - Spain - America - China - Maybe Japan? - Dunno about the rest of the gang]**

**Reciprocal**** Scotland x France or Ukraine (not sure yet - if you have any ideas, let me know in reviews)**

**And maybe a few more that I might come up with in time. Did I mention some slight One-sided Rome x England (well, not really romantic or serious but just Rome being all pervy and possessive)**

**For now, that's all! Let me know if you have a better pairing for Scotland but be aware that I will not do any Britcest. Oh and, there will be the introduction of Ancients (OCs and Originals) so a bit of match-making with them too maybe?**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

_The dark haired woman looked up suddenly as she felt a hand land on her shoulder. Careful not to wake up the sleeping 12 year old boy in her arms, she turned lazy half lidded grey eyes to the tall man looking down on her. He seemed like he wanted to speak but the words refused to come. But words were not needed. In an understanding silence, they both turned their gaze towards the burning horizon ahead._

_The sky bled ashes and the sea shimmered golden as it slowly and painfully devoured the inferno of land. The tall raging mountain of fire was now the only sight left above sea level, the rest had collapsed and drowned under Poseidon's fury. Soon, even the flames had died out and nothing was left but the painfully empty horizon of blue._

_The sound of chains could faintly be heard in the distance but it soon became a mere dream._

_A tear rolled down the woman's face while the man's grip on her shoulder tightened. Neither spoke a word. Neither needed to. This was just … fate._

_The falling ashes from the darkened sky was all that was left of that night. As if the Heavens cried for the loss of today but tomorrow, none shall remember. Just like the fire in which it vanished, it will die out and nothing will remain but ashes blown away in the wind. Until the dream itself falls into oblivion._

_Fire._

* * *

The lazy grey eyes painfully blinked open and stared dully at the clear blue sky.

The sky … strange. She was certain that she had fallen asleep in her temple last night. And now … the sky? Strange.

She pulled herself up and glanced around at the ruins. She didn't recognise the place but somehow … it felt … familiar. That half broken altar … those frescos almost completely erased thanks to time … the few remaining pillars at the entrance when there should have been many more … no, she knew this place but … just not quite this far ahead.

"My temple … Dear gods, what cruel demon you are, Chronos." The woman sighed.

She got up and started to wander around the remains of what was previously known as Athena's temple and is now a historical treasure and touristic attraction in Greece, like many other relics of the past. She saw the many remains of her past city and further in the distance, what she assumed to be the modern Athens. How she missed her home … and yet, she was home.

Weeping sounds could be heard wailing in agony. She looked around and was not surprised to discover a cloud of mist surround the area. Of course, on such a sunny day how could there be mist? The woman closed her senses, unable to answer the prayers and pleads of those tormented souls. How could there be so many in her temple? Hasn't anyone taken care of them? She shook her head in desolation before walking away, hopefully to find answers as to her presence in this wrong time. Leaving the frustrated ghosts behind. They seemed to have settled in her temple fine … she needn't get involved especially in a place and time that doesn't concern her.

* * *

Lovino growled darkly. He was sick and tired of Feliciano's case and had made it an absolute necessity to take his brother to Heracles. Ever since a year ago, Feliciano and Lovino had been sharing dreams more and more often. Except that it often was Lovino being dragged into Feliciano's fantasies or nightmares. And he hated both. So as a last resort, he wanted the Greek nation to teach his brother how to protect his mind the way Romano had learnt.

But he did not expect Feliciano to invite all the other idiots to come along too! The angry Italian glared at the small group of nations following him. Potato Bastard and Otaku Bastard obviously were there. But so was Albino Potato Bastard too and he had told the Tomato Bastard and the Perverted Bastard! That loud-mouthed Hamburger Bastard had somehow found out and had told everyone else, hence the Hello Kitty Bastard, the Creepy Bastard and the Invisible Bastard had come too! Oh and worse of all, the Sexy Tea Bastard is here too! Dammit! Why are all those bastards here!

Lovino's gaze lingered on England and when the blond crossed eyes with him, he immediately averted his amber eyes away, a deep blush on his face. Damn! Damn! Damn! Stupid fratellino! Why can't you keep your fucking mouth shut, dammit!

The group eventually arrived in front of an old Greek temple. The statue of Athena, goddess of Victory and guardian of Greece's Capital Athens, stood proudly at its entrance. Heracles was waiting for them inside. Romano had made sure to warn him beforehand so that he could prepare all the necessities. He only was mildly surprised to see this many visitors. But he shrugged it off as his dull gaze settled on the Italian twins. Lovino pushed his brother forward.

"Stupido, you go with the Sleeping Bastard and he'll show you what to do."

"Ve? Are you sure, fratello?"

"Si! You want those dreams to stop, no? Then do what he says!"

"Veee … ok. But what about …"

"I'll stay here with the other bastards."

"Hey, Dude! What's going on? Why can't we go too?"

"Shut up America! This is to help Veneziano. Let them be!"

"Why are you such a spoiler, England?" America pouted childishly. He never noticed the uneasiness drawn on Arthur's face and the way his eyes kept shifting around nervously. But Lovino noticed. Leaving his brother in the care of Heracles (they both moved to a different room) he turned to the excited nations who quickly moved around the temple, visiting and admiring it. It was indeed an impressive piece of art and architecture. Romano himself was impressed. And he's Italy, he knows Art! But right now, his mind is too preoccupied to enjoy the master piece around them. England had walked out of the temple. And Lovino immediately followed.

* * *

The blond Englishman sighed in relief. He always felt uneasy in Greek temples. Not because he didn't appreciate them or their beauty. He just … it brought back too many memories … and the countless ghosts they inhabited didn't help. The same way England never goes to visit Roman ruins whenever he's in Italy. America had pestered him about it but England had managed to make him go with France instead. He just couldn't bare it. His arm would burn and memories would haunt him. But that still would be fine. No. What really bothered him was the impossible amount of spirits swarming around. In old temples, and sacred places with high magical energy, you'll always see a soft mist cover your vision. But that's not fog. It's just the unreasonable number of ghosts. So many that it turned into a thick cloudy fog. Temples, in the past might also be scene to human sacrifices, and if not, the simple fact that they were a place of gathering for people to pray the gods, also attracts the spirits there. You sometimes get this phenomenon at sea too or in places where many people died in horrific ways like old battlefields and such. The Coliseum was one of those horrible places. All the tormented souls that lingered in this Roman master piece. Arthur shivered as he remembered when he was forced to fight in that same Coliseum. Many of the ghosts there are probably people he killed with his own hands in a struggle for survival. Oh yes … he remembered clearly … Rome would send him to fight in that circus for the pleasure of the Roman people as punishment for Arthur's many misbehaviours. Seeing again the faces of the people he had killed … the blond hoped he could avoid that. Ghosts or memories … Arthur isn't sure which he fears the most.

Of course, most people wouldn't even notice this, let alone feel it. Arthur, however, was cursed with this dangerous gift of seeing what others could not. Obviously, his fellow nations thought he was mad. Well, you'd go mad too if you were constantly surrounded with those seas of ghosts. That's why Arthur tried to avoid such places.

As soon as he stepped out of the temple, Arthur felt he could breathe again. He looked up at the blue cloudless sky. There wasn't much sun today but it felt so bright. Blinking slightly, Arthur heard footsteps follow him out. He didn't bother glancing at his follower. He could feel the other's presence next to him but he didn't care who it was or what the person wanted. Eventually, he heard Romano's voice speak up.

"What's wrong with you, bastard?"

"… Do you always call people _bastards_?"

"Yeah. Problem?"

"It's quite exasperating at times. I do have a name, you know."

"… A-Arthur." The Italian mumbled with a blush. He was glad Arthur wasn't looking at him. Said Arthur was slightly surprised.

"I meant my nation's name … but I guess you can call me that too."

Lovino nodded then remembered that Arthur had still his eyes fixed on the sky and couldn't see him.

"Ok … Grazie."

They both stayed silent. Minutes passed but it felt like hours. In fact, Lovino would have almost thought that time had stopped. He glanced up at the blond and was amazed by the soft expression on the blonde's face. Arthur was so peaceful and relaxed, a small grin curling his lips and his eyes clouded in daydream. Whatever he was thinking, it seemed to be fun.

It was indeed fun. But Arthur was not thinking. He was watching wind nymphs dance across the sky. They heard an argument rise from the temple. Probably their fellow nations making a mess again. Neither moved. Eventually Arthur sighed.

"How are you both keeping up … with your grandfather?" the English nation enquired.

"Terrible. He's a real bastard! I can't believe I'm related to him!" The Italian started to huff in frustration but only caused the blonde to have a dry chuckle of amusement.

"Can't be that bad!"

"You have no idea, bastardo. He's just … infuriating! When are you sending him back?"

"Working on it." Arthur answered dismissively, not letting Lovino know about the serious issue he was having of his own. He couldn't ask him or the others if they had touched the locked blue door in his house because … well, because they probably don't remember coming here in the first place. And he didn't dare to suggest the idea to Scotland and his siblings or that would just be digging up his own grave. If his brother knew that he had allowed random nations in during his quarantine time and had messed with them to escape boredom … oh, he's in trouble.

Sighing again, Arthur put aside his personal trouble and thought back at the purpose of everyone's visit to Greece.

"What's wrong with your brother? Why bring him here?" Arthur's green eyes finally looked at his neighbour. Lovino averted his eyes away.

"He's having weird dreams … nightmares. I used to have them too and Heracles helped me learn how to control my dreams." Lovino answered, hoping Arthur would not question his judgement of going to see Heracles instead of him concerning this matter. The reason was mainly that neither Italians wanted the blonde to realise _what kind_ of dreams they were having. Or _whom_ they dreamt about!

The blond nodded. He knew Heracles to be the best qualified when it came to dreams. The guy fucking sleeps all the time! Must be good at something, right?

"I see. Wise decision. I hope it works."

"I hope too …" Lovino mumbled. He did not want to continue sharing dreams with his idiotic brother. Especially when his dreams were about … Lovino glanced up at the blond who had once again moved further away from the temple. He ran after the Island nation.

"Wait! Bastard! Where are you going?"

"… Just … Nothing. I thought I had seen … Never mind." Arthur suddenly stopped, frowning at something in the nearby forest. Lovino peered at it too but saw nothing.

"What? What did you see?"

"… Nothing. It's not important."

"You're strange, you know that? You see things and then you say it was nothing! What's wrong with those delusions of yours?"

Arthur laughed sharply. It was an empty laugh. Of course. Lovino has never heard Arthur laugh from the bottom of his heart for real. Never. Could the man even laugh?

"My delusions are mine to deal with. Besides, why are you interested in them?"

"I'm not! It's just … disturbing."

"… Trust me, you haven't seen half of it."

Lovino looked back and was slightly scared by the dark and haunted look on England's face. The man looked like a ghost of himself. And Lovino could not bear it.

"Oi! Stop it, bastardo!"

Arthur jumped and glanced, surprised, at the younger nation.

"Stop it! That look on your face is scaring me! You look like you're dead!"

"… Dead …? Yeah … guess I am." A mysterious smile twisted on Arthur's face. It didn't look comforting at all and only worried Lovino more. Dammit! Why did he have to fall in love with the most suicidal person in the world?!

_Suicidal … wait, but if England really was suicidal … why hasn't he killed himself yet?_

Lovino frowned at the sudden thought. His eyes spotted movement from the forest and his frown deepened. He felt a hand land on his shoulder.

"Romano, don't go off daydreaming. It's not safe around here. Let's head back."

Lovino nodded but he only half listened to the blond who dragged him away and back to the temple. Something had caught his eye. Something that made him doubt of England's delusions. Something that looked a lot like a … there's no way that's a _sphinx_!

* * *

"Veeee … Mister Heracles?"

"You can … drop the … mister."

"O-ok! Um … What's this place?"

"Divination … room."

Feliciano nodded shyly as he looked around the room. It was filled in a thick fog of incenses and flavoured smokes. Strange fires were lit up around the room, some white, some blue, some red, some green, … In the centre, a small pool that can fit four adults fully in head to toe, was filled with a changing coloured liquid.

"Step in … the water … please." The Greek ordered. He was wearing his old Greek toga that reminded Feliciano of his own Roman toga he used to wear when he was young and his Nonno Roma was still … well, his Nonno! And not an irritating younger version of him who thought he owned the world and had crashed in his house for a whole year!

The Italian obeyed without a word. He undressed and walked in the water. It reached up to his chin and he had to lift his head up to keep himself above the water.

"This will … not hurt … but … … don't … panic." Heracles mumbled before he started whispering ancient Greek words.

Feliciano tried to recognise the words but he soon felt his mind go blank. Everything around him vanished and he was trapped in a space of darkness. Then … the fire. It burst out suddenly and Feliciano was standing in the middle of it. A feather was burning at his feet. The Italian felt a sudden fear as he looked around for the figure. He found it. He rushed to it but then felt a hand stop him. Turning around, Heracles was holding him back.

"Wait … watch."

Feliciano looked back to the standing figure. The flames had died and the figure was still alive. Feliciano could feel nothing but happiness … until he heard Heracles' following words.

"This is … your dream … but backwards."

The figure was standing in the pool of blood. It tilted its head around facing the two nations. Sharp emeralds watched them. Heracles frowned. He could see the eyes but the face of the person was blurry. He glanced back at Feliciano. The Italian was completely hypnotised by the figure. He could probably see his face but couldn't remember it and because this is Feliciano's dream, Heracles is only being shown what Feliciano knows and understands from the dream.

"I'm sorry …" Heracles froze when he heard the familiar voice. He had heard that voice before. But when? Where? Who?

_I'm sorry …_

The Greek man dropped to his knees and his breathing hitched. Feliciano was walking off towards the figure. This had to stop. He had to stop this dream now! That person … that smiling person … it had to disappear! That smile … is a lie!

Feliciano blinked his eyes open. He was lying on the cold floor of the temple next to the basin. Heracles was catching his breath next to him. Again, Feliciano had been unable to recall that person's identity. He wish he could.

"That voice … do you … know it?" Heracles whispered. Feliciano shook his head.

"No … Si … … maybe ..." Feliciano answered vaguely while averting his eyes. He knew that he was dreaming of Arthur … at least, he thought he was … but he never knew Arthur from his Roman times so … Alice? But it makes no sense!

"But it's ... familiar?"

"Si!"

"Me too ..." Heracles mumbled darkly. He didn't like this. If that voice was an echo of the past then why couldn't he remember? Who was that person? And why was his memory failing him now when it never did before?

"Feliciano … This dream … is very dangerous … I will … teach you … how to control … it."

Feliciano nodded. He had a feeling that this dream was more than dangerous. It felt like a locked door that should never be opened. Because the secrets it held are so dark they could eat you up. And yet … Feliciano just couldn't stop himself from wishing for this dream every night … only to see that person again. Every time, hoping he could save this person before it all burns down. And no matter how many times … he always ends up surrounded in flames and agony.


	4. The Nordics' Problem

**Chap 3: The Nordics' Problem**

_The approaching ships' figures shimmered in the distance. Alistair peered anxiously at the blue horizon, his ride grew agitated next to him and nuzzled against his back as if warning him and pressing him to leave as it felt the approaching danger. The Scot turned to face the beast by his side and calmly stroke its neck. The horse shook its head, its emerald eyes scolding gently the boy and urging him to ride on and leave._

_Tall, taller than any horse, with large heavy hooves covered in in thick hair, his mane of white was thick and mussed up. Entirely white, a pure clean white like the foam of the sea crashing against the many rocks of Scottish beaches. The creature's tail was similar to a lion's, swishing by in its agitation. It breathed out heavily and once more nudged its large head against the young 16 year old looking man, avoiding to hurt him with its sharp long ivory horn on its forehead._

"_I know Kelpi. I know." The boy nodded and climbed up on the two meters tall horse before riding off into the mainland and away from the coast. Another invasion. Dear gods … won't it ever end?_

* * *

_Fire._

_The forest burnt and houses fell to ashes. The sound of marching soldiers and the clashing of metal against metal. It all felt too familiar. A roaring laughter resonated across the destroyed camp._

"_Is that it? The island that caused trouble to Roma?"_

_A heavy large boot landed close to his mud-covered face. Alistair glared at the foot, willing it to catch fire and spread up to the rest of the body. But instead, he felt the hardness of the hit against his head as the said foot buried his face further into the ground. He couldn't move his body. He felt so weak and hopeless … just like against Rome. Dammit._

_The Seas roared in anger and Alistair smirked as he could hear the calls of Kelpi and other white horses, waters rising and waves crashing in a desperate attempt to damage the invading fleets._

"_What now? Are you responsible for this, boy?" The man's voice growled darkly as he pressed his foot and crushed Alistair's jaw, breaking its bone in the process. The boy coughed out blood and swallowed mud. But only glee and madness shone in the ocean blue eyes of the invader, his long white hair with braided strands among the loose, blowing gently in the northern wind._

"_I already stripped clean your islands … what was that one called again … too many druids on it if you ask me and not enough soldiers! Iona! That's what it was called!" The man laughed in remembrance while Alistair felt his heart sink in his chest._

_Iona._

_The Sacred Island of Iona._

_This land of gods, monks and druids … of course there would be no soldiers! But why would anyone bother harming a land of the gods! The bastard holds no sense of care for the sacred! Alistair wanted to cry and at the same time he wished he could cut the laughing man's throat open and drink his filthy blood! Maybe even sacrifice him to the gods! That would ease his pain … a little._

"_Matthias! How are our troops doing down South?"_

"_Father!" The clapping of hooves resonated as an approaching rider neared them._

_Down South … Alistair had a bad feeling about those words …_

"_It's bad father! Our hold on the smaller Island Eir is going as planned but … the south of this one is a bit …" Alistair heard the boy hesitate. It had to be a boy from the sound of his voice still immature. Maybe 14? Not much younger sounding than himself. Was he a nation too? If his father is that man … it's most likely that he is._

"_What? What? This place holds more druids and peasants than warriors! How can you not be done with them yet?!"_

"_Our troops have settled on one corner of land but can't seem to advance."_

"_Have you found the heart of the land like I told you?!"_

"_I did but he escaped … he travelled North! I was hoping I would find him while running into you …"_

"_Another pesky Celt …" The man hissed in anger before grabbing a handful of the crimson hair of his victim and forcing Alistair's face upward._

_For the first time, Alistair could see the face of his attacker and of the young boy by his side. He engraved the cold blue eyes of the Viking in his mind, his hair white as snow and his face of a pale taint that seems to have never seen the sun. The boy next to him was indeed around 14-15 looking, armoured like his Viking father, he looked uneasy but kept a straight and brave face in front of his father. Alistair could guess that this was the boy's first experience of war. How naïve! His blond spiky hair didn't seem to flatten under his helmet and his blue eyes, identical to his father's, were kinder and more hesitant. So very naïve!_

_Alistair could not stop a smirk off his lips, despite his broken bleeding body. He must look like a corpse and yet he was not allowed to die. He wished he could. The pain was unbearable even for a nation. But he could not die. Not yet. Who else would protect this land if he gave up on his life?_

_A kick in his face drew him back to reality and he coughed out more blood._

"_What's gotten you all happy, little Celt?" The hissing anger of the man muttered darkly. He didn't like seeing his victim smirk or smile. Especially in the condition he had put the boy through. He should be yelling and pleading in agony and yet he had not managed to squeeze one beg out of this annoying brat. And now, he dared to smirk at him! That insolent …!_

"_Your land will be mine. Now that Rome is history, there is nothing to stop me from taking over Britannia and expanding my empire!"_

"_Father!" The boy's cry was just in time to avoid the man an in-coming arrow._

_Snapping his head around, Scandinavia's eyes widened in shock as he was faced by an entire army of angry Britons with in their lead a young blond child mounting a … golden beast. Alistair's eyes widened as he recognised his younger brother._

"_Al-bion …" He whispered in a breath before blinking himself into unconscious._

_Fire._

* * *

_Arthur Kirkland looked down on the destroyed body of his brother. He watched in a respectful and worried silence as the druids used of their medical skills and magic to heal him. He had known of troubles with Vikings but his brother had not once requested for his help. The idiot! He should have! Arthur knows that he holds more resources and men than his Scottish sibling. He himself was struggling to keep the Vikings at bay so he could only imagine what the main forces of the Vikings had done to his brother that he would end up in such a state._

"_Iona was pillaged and destroyed." The news came to him but Arthur nodded absently to one of his men, dismissing him._

_They even went as far as damaging this sacred island. If this keeps up, Isle of Man and others would all die, just like Iona had. Arthur felt his stomach turn. Maybe it was due to the fact that another member of his family was dead. Or maybe it was the fear of those ruthless invaders. Or maybe he couldn't bear the sight of his brother's body getting butchered, and the blood pouring out from both the wounds and the operation to save him. Forcing himself up on shaky legs, the young blonde Briton walked out of the tent and towards the coast. He shot one last hesitant glance at his brother's body and that was all he needed to harden his resolve._

* * *

_Scandinavia, the warrior of the sea and ruthless Viking was now staring wide eyes at the young boy approaching him. Somehow, the boy had managed to infiltrate his camp, defeat his men and was now walking into his hut like it was a walk in the park. But the blood and wounds covering his hands and body did tell of what he had done to get through, yet so young and his face showed no fear or regret. His emerald eyes were as cold … no, colder than ice and the man was sure that this wasn't the first time the Briton child had killed. Something about the child's demeanour reminded him of Rome the Conqueror. Maybe it was just his imagination … they look nothing alike after all …_

_By his side, he felt Denmark shiver uncomfortably. Of course, his son was used to fighting and killing but he still needed to mature as a warrior. Sweden was quietly watching with a serious face that didn't fit his childish 12 year old features. But if anything, Norway, only seemingly 10, was the same age (well, same age-looking, since they are nations) as that Celtic boy and yet, he was still unused to blood and violence. He'd rather play around with faeries and trolls._

_But not his boy._

"_Is that all?" the man asked with a sharp cornered smirk._

_The boy nodded. He looked determined and decided, despite the absurdity of his request. For a nation, such a request is … ridiculous!_

"_Do you realise the foolishness of your request?"_

_The boy didn't reply. The determination in his emeralds glowed dangerously of a mystical energy and Scandinavia now could see the deceased spirit of Britannia in those eyes … so very green eyes._

"_For such a reason … I don't understand." The older man sighed._

* * *

Alistair glared in irritation at the group of people on his doorstep.

"Arthur! The Vikings are here!" He barked before walking back into the house and no more caring for their guests.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" Arthur's face suddenly took Alistair's place in the doorway and he smiled politely at the group. In seconds, the excited boy in a sailor suit had jumped and latched himself around the Englishman's neck, surprising everyone.

"Hey, Peter, how have you been?"

"Great! What's with Uncle Al?"

"Don't mind him! He's just being a sour puss. I'm sorry for making you all wait, come in." Arthur moved aside, Peter in his arms, to allow entrance to Sweden, Finland and Denmark. He eyed Denmark quizzically but said nothing. Usually it was only Sweden and/or Finland who dropped off Peter to his house but why would Denmark show up too?

"Can I offer you anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"You have beer?" The Dane grinned brightly as the Nordics each took a seat in the living room, eyeing the foreign house with deep interest. Until now, Peter had always been dropped off in Arthur's flat in London so nobody had been given a chance to see Arthur's Union House that he shared with his siblings.

"Yeah we do. Tino? Berwald?"

"Tea is fine." The Finlander answered quietly and a bit coldly which was unusual for him. Berwald only gruffed in agreement.

"Be back in a minute." Arthur nodded and dropped Peter to the ground as he headed for the kitchen.

The boy playfully went around the room like he knew the place. And he did. He always used to come here whenever he stayed with Arthur. Except that recently he had discovered the hidden dimension to this house. A secret. Never to be told.

His Nordic family watched him with wonder and concern. Not only was Peter acting strange with them since a little over a year ago, but now he was actually being nice to England and had not once called him Jerk. And why did he now refer to Scotland as Uncle Al? Tino shot a warning glare to Berwald and the Swede could only look away with shifting uncomfortable eyes. Denmark didn't pay attention to the couple or their issues. He had a problem of his own and hoped England could sort it out some way or another.

A man walked in the room, shuffling his slipper-covered feet and wearing a large wolly jumper harbouring a blazing red dragon on a black font. His brown hair was shaggier than Arthur's and even fell over his face (probably needed to get it cut soon) curling around and fluffed up like a sheep's wool or as if he had just dragged himself out of bed. But through the mass of hair you could clearly recognised the familiar emeralds of the Celts and the thick pair of eyebrows. The man looked over the guests with a loud yawn and his gaze settled on the smiling young boy.

"Hey. You're back?" His voice was rich and deep with a melodious tone. And he wasn't singing yet!

"Hi Uncle Will! How's Cobalt now?" The young boy grinned excitedly back and went over to receive a large bear-hug from the Welsh.

"Fine. He's getting used to being blind. Tinker misses you though."

"Oh yeah! She around?"

"Outside I think." No sooner had he spoken his answer than Peter left the Welsh nation and rushed out to the window.

Peering out, his grin widened as he spotted the group of faeries not far. A green squeaking faery spotted him and Tinker Bell waved at the young boy. Eagerly Peter turned to his Nordic parents.

"Can I go now?"

Tino nodded, unable to understand a word of his son's conversation with Wales. Neither did he comprehend the odd behaviour Peter had towards the British Isles. Until a year ago, Peter had always been reluctant to come over to stay at Arthur's house. But now, it's almost the other way around and Peter becomes overly-eager whenever he is suggested to go back to Britain. Why? What had happened?

"Peter! Don't go out without your coat, love, it's cold outside!" Arthur warned the boy as he passed him in the hall. After a dismissive "Yeah! Yeah!", Peter was out and chatting outside to what looked like thin air to the Nordics but to the Britons were faeries.

"Will, where's Princess?" Arthur asked his brother seated in a corner of the sofa and playing on his Ipad. The Welsh shrugged.

"Out, she said." He answered in a dismissive mumble, his half-lidded eyes never leaving the screen.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious!" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Pleasure." William smirked and reached out to borrow Arthur's reading glasses from the nearby coffee table.

Arthur shook his head in derision and turned his attention to his guests. He was noticing the cold attitude of Finland and was surprised about it. Tino has always been the warmest and most emotional one of the Nordics and it was unusual to see him act … well, almost like Norway, to be fair. And Sweden was being all fidgety and nervous, instead of his usual serious self. He was cute when he got uncomfortable like that! Arthur's eyes softened fondly on the Swede but he quickly realised his mistake and shifted his eyes away towards Denmark. Of all the weird behaviours, his presence is the weirdest thing. First off, why is he here? Second, why has he not yet spoken one of his loud and obnoxious tirades? Thirdly … _what the fuck is Alistair doing with that axe_?!

Arthur growled and rushed to the open window and yell outside as he saw his older brother and Peter head out further … with a freaking axe!

"Oi! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Thistle Head?!"

Scotland looked back with a mischievous grin at his blonde brother.

"Just teaching the lad how to cut wood! He wants to know how to build a wand!"

"The hell you're getting him a wand!"

"Relax, blondie! We're just going to cut wood! No wands … yet!"

Before Arthur could stop them, the two sprinted towards the nearby woods and were soon out of sight. England pondered on whether to send someone after them, then he decided he wouldn't waste his energy and time in that. Peter'll be safe with Al. Nothing to be concerned about. The only concern is what will Alistair drag the boy into!

"Bloody wanker … Sorry about that. So Denmark … what brings you here too?"

The Dane looked up with an uneasy smile and the other two Nordics' expression turned grim and worried. This would not be good news. But hey, he already had the bad enough news of a Roman Empire coming back to life. What could be worse?

"So … you know how Rome came back, yeah? Have you … figured out a way to send him home?"

Arthur frowned while William looked up with a passive expression. The very fact that he deigned look away and pay attention proved that he was just as curious and confused as Arthur about what the Dane wanted.

"We're working on it. We figured out how he got here so now, sending him back should be easier. We're looking into the various process and possibilities." Arthur answered vaguely, not wanting to reveal that so far they had only gotten failures.

"… What if you asked Norway to help out …" Matthias suggested and was immediately cut off by the Welsh.

"No thanks. We don't need help." The brown haired grumbled, glaring at the Dane. He did not like the implication of him needing an outsider's help, especially concerning magic!

"Like Wales said, we're fine. It just might take a bit longer than expected is all." Arthur sighed, though he was starting to think they might need to call on other magical nations to help them.

"How long?" Sweden mumbled suddenly.

"I can't tell yet … but why are you all suddenly interested in that?" Arthur's eyebrows knotted themselves deeper in questioning and confusion. Denmark looked away and avoided the questioning glare of Arthur's emeralds as he mumbled quietly.

"After you deal with Rome … is it possible to send someone else back to the past too?"

"Someone else? _Who_ exactly?"

"…"

"Matthias, we are not playing a guessing game. Tell me now or I'm not helping."

"… Just don't get mad …" Sweden mumbled and Arthur was surprised by how the two were acting so anxious. Eventually, Finland was the one to answer.

"Scandinavia has showed up three months ago on our doorstep." He stated with an oddly cold gaze settled on Arthur.

Wales' reaction was instantly one of irritation as he silenced a growl. Arthur face-palmed in frustration. Great! One more! Guess the Roman Bastard was not the only one! Looks like he'll have to hurry up in sealing the door again or who knows how many more will turn up!

"Scotty's going to be delighted." William groaned, already imagining his brother's murderous expression once they tell him the news.

"You're telling me." Arthur sighed in agreement.

* * *

"Uncle Al … why do you hate me?" Peter asked as he tried to follow the fast walking Scotland through the thick woods without losing sight of the older nation.

Scotland paused in his track and shot a surprised look at the young blond. Although he could see the strong physical resemblance … Alistair saw nothing of Arthur in the young boy. Many nations, including his siblings, liked to think of Peter as a mini-Arthur or as a replica of Arthur when he was young. Alistair didn't. Peter and Arthur were nothing alike.

One – Arthur is actually Alys (well, now you'd write it _Alice_)

Two – Their personality are completely different

Three - … Well, he just isn't his wee brother!

But Peter is his brother/sister's son. Scotland never understood how England could have had feelings for one of those Norse to even fall pregnant! Maybe Arthur was right in saying that he was too resentful of the past … but Alistair just could not forget the ravages _that bastard_ had caused upon his soil. He was even worse than Rome … or maybe on equal foot which is bad enough! Alistair knew he had no right to feel so angry and vengeful since he wasn't a model of peace and love himself. Hell, nations invade each other. The usual. But what he didn't forgive was himself. Because of his weakness, the same mistake with Rome was repeated and his precious sister had been taken ... even worse, this time she went willingly. Making a deal to save his life.

"I don't hate you, lad."

"Really? Because you always look angry around me and you call me a … Viking child." Peter sheepishly looked away. He didn't know what kind of feud had occurred between the Britons and the Norses but he could imagine Scotland had suffered the most from it.

"It has nothing to do with you. I'm just a sad old fool."

"Like England?" Peter allowed a small smile on his lips and was glad to see the red hair reciprocate.

"Aye, guess we all regret and bury ourselves in the past! Even England … … I don't hate you though. I'm angry because of what Scandinavia did but you didn't even exist at the time. I have no right to blame you for anything."

Peter nodded, avoiding the dark look of Scotland's emeralds. Somehow … he really wished he had inherited those same greens as all the British Isles. It made him feel like an outsider … like he was indeed a Viking Child roaming an Island of Celts.

"But you're my brother's son. Your blood is the same as ours. You are one of us Peter, and I know you probably feel you're not yet but don't worry … you'll realise your closer to us than you think." Alistair kneeled down and ruffled the boy's hair.

Golden blond … it'd be trouble if the boy got kidnapped now. Arthur would definitely kill him.

Tinker Bell flew in warning circles all of a sudden, squeaking in panic. Alistair nodded and gently took the boy's hand, leading him away from the forest and its many wonders and threats.

"Let's go. You shouldn't venture here alone."

"Eh? Why?"

"Because you're like Arthur."

"…?"

"Blonde." Alistair smirked as he remembered the time when Arthur got kidnapped by faeries and he had charged through their territory to save his wee brother. Small blonde boy … what a troublesome brother he had … He better not lose sight of the kid or Arthur would definitely kill him.

* * *

**AN: You might not need any clarification here but I'll give one anyway!**

**Iona is/was a sacred island in Scotland (mostly for monks and before that druids). It was during the early middle ages that Norses (or Vikings if you prefer) attacked Britain on frequent raids. They also went for trade and settlement so they did have a positive influence as well. But let's get back to the raids: in 793, Eastern England was attacked and I think that's as far as they got through England (but I'm not sure) while in 795 there was a raid on Iona. At that time, the raids seemed to have been aimed at religious places and monasteries Iona had druids but with Christianity it became a sanctuary for monks. From then on, frequent raids on Scotland and Britain and Ireland in general occurred. Scotland suffered more Viking raids and influence than England did. More settlers would land in Scotland or Ireland. So I'm just twisting History to make it look more dramatic. To be honest, you had a lot of peaceful settlements too but raids are more fun to talk about in stories, isn't it?**

**As for the faery thing in the last part. You should all know that Faeries/Fairies in old folks' tales and old myths were known to kidnap young children. Some of these stories claim that faeries had a preference for young blonde children and would take them to their realms, exchanging them with Faery children. Little weird but I thought '_how would England survive in the wild on his own with eager faeries around him?_' Answer: He had his siblings to protect him! In truth, Scotland and England weren't at each other's throat much prior to the Wars of Scottish Independence Before that, I couldn't find much animosity between them.**

**History lesson:**

**Before you ask: No, Scotland was not under English ruling - it's complicated but due to the King of Scotland dying old and with no male heir and only a 3 year old granddaughter to inherit the thrown, this granddaughter Margaret was married to Edward I of England WITH THE GUARANTY THAT SCOTLAND WOULD REMAIN FULLY INDEPENDENT FROM ENGLAND AND NOT LOSE ITS SOVEREIGNTY AS A NATION. Bla-bla-bla ... tensions ect ... Margaret died young and that left Scotland in chaos since she died before giving an heir. So now, I let you imagine all the Scottish lords at each others' throat to claim the thrown (and you can also add English royals thinking they had a right in the mix too). Eventually, Edward I became Lord Paramount of Scotland as an arbitrary power to avoid bloodshed between Scottish Lords.**

**With no king/leader and a disorganised military and people, Scotland had no choice but to accept (Edward's troops on the Anglo-Scottish border did help in making a choice). So, officially, Scotland is still a sovereign nation separate from England and mainly ruled by Lords who pledged allegiance to Edward ... like I said: Complicated.**

**Then comes the First Scottish war of Independence followed by the second. Really, it's just like a civil war with England's involvement in it. Some Scottish Lords had holds and lands in England, so you can see why they didn't want to be in conflict with England. While at the same time, they all wished to take the Scottish thrown. And England just wants to take over Scotland (Never happened - proof is even when Edward was supposedly imposing his law on Scotland, he needed the support of Scottish Lords and he would constantly be facing rebels from the Highlands and complotes of the lords aiming to get rid of him).**

**Soooo ... It was only starting the 13th century that England and Scotland went at each other. England tried to invade Scotland, Scotland tries to invade England ... and it goes on and on, back and forth during the 14th, 15th, 16th century. Only with the crowning of King James VI (of Scotland - but the I of England - well, Britain) did things settle down a little. But you really need to wait for the Act of Union in 1707 for Scotland and England to official be at (relative) peace and forge the United Kingdom (because it was a union of two kingdoms with each standing on equal rights to the other). Ireland joined in later and clearly didn't like it much since it left afterwards now, there's only the North. Wales was annexed by England at the time so it didn't have a choice in joining.**

**... Why did I go on a historical rant again? Oh yeah ... just to say that until the 13th century, Scotland and England were on pretty good terms. No wars and often traded. Plus they have a similar history and culture so, yeah. I think Scotland took good care of his wee brother (considering Ireland is a complete different Island from Britain, and Wales was already at war with England prior to Scotland - I like to think that they used to all be on good terms before that). Anyway ... Scotty made sure faeries didn't kidnap Artie! ... Or Alys if you prefer! (_Alys_ is how you use to write _Alice_ in old English).**


	5. Words I miss for You

**Chap 4: Words I miss for you**

_Peter buried his head in his pillows, trying to cancel out the yelling from downstairs. He hated it. Once again, his parents were fighting. Why? Why now and what for?_

_The sound of crashing glass. Probably Finland throwing something at Sweden. Why?_

_The young boy started to cry silent tears. This house, this home he used to feel to at ease and safe in was now falling apart. He knew that something was wrong but nobody else would believe him! Denmark only laughed it off. Norway didn't care. Iceland cared even less. And nobody else in the world would show the slightest interest in his parents. Nobody would listen to him or believe him. Because Finland and Sweden are reputed as the ideal couple of the World. So obviously, how could they possibly be fighting? Nobody would believe him. Nobody._

_Except England._

_Peter wiped away his tears and blanked out the loud angry and desperate shouts of Tino, focusing on his memory rather than the present. He pictured Arthur's serious face and how it slowly breaks into a kind smile, something rare that Arthur only shows members of his family. Then he pictured the loving and smiling face of Alice, her hair so short and her eyes so green … he still could not believe that she was his mother … … nor that she was Arthur. Peter reminded himself the words of his Chinese relative from a little over a year ago:_

"_Alys Kirkland was born as Albion. But Albion died not long after the fall of the Roman Empire. The land was renamed England thanks to Germanic influence and Arthur Kirkland was its core. That is how history goes. How reality happened is an entirely different thing."_

_Indeed._

_Reality can sometimes be so unreal that it is best to hide and conceal it behind lies and stories. In time those very stories become reality while the truth dies out into legends to eventually vanish out of existence. Like a forgotten dream._

"_I HATE YOU!" Finland yelled and Peter knew that the argument was over._

_A door slammed, Peter heard shy footsteps edging towards his door and the handle creak. Berwald's tired face looked in and both pairs of blue eyes bore into each other. Berwald noticed the stains of tears on his son's face. Peter noticed the wrinkles of fatigue and stress on his father's forehead. Neither spoke a word, because neither knew what to say to the other. They both wished to ease each other but almost on a common accord, Peter flew the covers over him while Berwald shut the door and walked away. Like always. Words are something neither the boy nor the father were good with. It's a shame. Because Alice is really good with words. Maybe she could have avoided this fight?_

_Or maybe not._

_After all, Peter suspected that Arthur was the cause of this fight. And that only made him more eager to leave and return to Britain as soon as possible to escape the stuffing tensions of this house. Soon enough …_

* * *

Peter watched with cautious ocean blue eyes at his … what should he call him? Mother? Father? Brother? … He watched with cautious ocean blues eyes at his _Jerk_. Arthur wasn't doing anything particularly interesting or worth staring at him for hours. He was simply reading his book, elegant reading glasses tilted on his nose, and his thick eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown with his tongue sticking out slightly from his parted lips, like he always does when he's focusing on something. Peter knew every tic and habit of the older blonde. He had watched him for many years after all, so by now, he knew everything there is to know about his Jerk England.

Except he didn't.

Peter discovered that in fact, he knew nothing of his English relative. Hell, he wasn't even sure what he was meant to call him! And Arthur never told him either. He only said:

"_Call me whatever you wish."_

And that's it.

Only recently did he discover Arthur's gender switch and it was still confusing for him to wrap his head around. Alice is Arthur and Arthur is Alice. And yet one is dead while the other is a fake. It makes no sense! But Peter didn't care. He realised that common sense was not something the British Isles concerned themselves with and anyway, he wanted to escape the troubles of sanity and order. He wanted to ignore the painful reality around him. It only reminded him of his arguing parents back in the North.

"What's wrong, love?"

Peter looked up and was met by the ever-so-green eyes of England. Typical eyes of a Kirkland. He sometimes wishes that he would have gotten those eyes too. Shaking his head dismissively, Peter averted his eyes and mumbled quietly.

"They were arguing again."

"Tino and Berwald?" Arthur lifted a surprised eyebrow. He had heard from Peter that the perfect couple was going through some hard times but he didn't think they would still be at odds after an entire year! Not so perfect after all, it would seem.

"Yeah." Peter nodded, sadness painting his face. He had long stopped worrying. He was used to it but it still was painful to endure. Couldn't they just divorce and end this marital war already?

"Come here." Arthur motioned the boy and picked him up in his arms, sitting him on his lap and wrapping protective arms around the boy's shoulders.

"It's alright. In a relationship, people argue. It's normal."

"It's not for them! They never argue! Never! Not once! And now, all of a sudden, Tino gets furious at Papa and keeps telling that it's his fault or that he hates him. I don't understand why?!"

Arthur didn't bother picking up the fact that Peter had stopped calling Finland 'Mama'. He also ignored the happy feeling this was giving him. He should not feel happy about Tino's misfortune but Arthur couldn't help enjoying the fact that Peter had stopped considering Finland as his Mother (even if it's only subconsciously for now). Because Arthur didn't like hearing one of his children call another person his mother. But he also had long accepted the fact that Peter would not come back to him and shouldn't. So he had, reluctantly, accepted this fact.

"Well, in my understanding, the fact that they never fought before is much stranger to me. A couple that never fights … it wouldn't be love. It might be fondness or friendship but for love, you need the two parties to show interest in the other and occasionally this provokes fights."

"So … you think Papa didn't love Tino?"

"I never said that. But maybe … maybe Tino never really loved your dad and only now starts to accept his feelings? Maybe this is just a stage at which both actually start a real relationship?" Arthur suggested with a kind smile, hoping he was not inducing Peter into false hope.

No chance in that. The boy's expression only darkened and he shook his head negatively.

"No. Because Papa never loved Tino." His tone was absolute and decisive. Arthur lifted his eyebrows in surprise. Even he had thought Berwald to show strong romantic interest in Tino. That's also partly why he had given up his own romantic interest in the cold Nordic nation … _that_ and Alistair was being such a pain in the arse about him dating a _Viking_ that it became unbearable.

"Really? How can you be so sure?"

"I just know." Peter averted his eyes, his ears flushed red slightly, his reaction puzzling Arthur completely.

"Alright … assuming you are correct. Why would he chase after Tino then?"

"… I don't know. He likes Tino. A lot. And he's very protective of him … … like a cute hamster."

Arthur nearly choked on the sip of tea he was taking at Peter's odd comparison. A _hamster_?! Tino would definitely be depressed if he knew how Peter views his relationship with Berwald. Putting his cup down, Arthur ruffled the boy's golden hair similar to his own.

"A hamster? That's not really a nice thing to say to your … your mum." Arthur's smile faltered slightly at the word. But he was soon stabbed by glaring ocean pools from the young boy's glare.

"I wasn't being insulting! Hamsters are cute! And Tino is cute!"

Arthur felt a pang of pain in his heart but he kept up his smiling façade. He actually had hopped Peter would get angry at him for calling Tino his mum. But of course not. After all, Tino has taken over Arthur's place in Peter's heart. No questioning it.

"Sorry, lad. Didn't mean it that way. But if I were you, I wouldn't concern myself with your parents' troubles. It's for them to sort it out. And if Berwald really does care for Tino and if Tino did come to love Berwald back, I'm sure they will sort it out. At least, we should hope so."

Peter's glare hardened even further but he looked away, huffing and sulking. Arthur watched his reaction with a puzzled expression then he sighed and got up to top up his cup of tea.

From the kitchen and behind the boiling sound of the kettle, Peter could hear Arthur be joined by Alistair and the two brothers automatically started an argument. It was like that every time one crossed paths with the other. But … it was different. This kind of argument was still loud and aggressive and yet … it was nothing like Tino and Berwald's arguments.

When England and Scotland argued, there was a spark in their words that didn't exist between Finland and Sweden. Usually it's Tino yelling his anger at a very silent Berwald. Here, you had an interaction, you had a mutual respect for the other, you had a desire to overpower the other. It was nothing like the fights back at his home in Sweden. Peter wondered if that's what Arthur meant when he said that people who love each other would fight on occasions? Well, sure, the British Isles fight more than _on occasions_, but does this mean that they do have this love connection while his adoptive parents don't? Even though England and Scotland aren't even lovers?

The boy felt the words roll over in his mind like a lie. It felt wrong. Because Sweden was his biological father. But Tino was far from what he would now consider a mother. He had in the past. And he still was deeply attached to the Finlander. But he didn't think of him as his Mother anymore. Not since he actually found his real mother! And that very same mother … she would actually let Tino take her place, her role, her … name.

Peter was angry because Arthur had called Tino his _mother_. He didn't tell the older blonde but he was indeed furious. Why would Arthur not understand? Why can't he actually see that all Peter wants is the acceptance he so desperately wanted from this man even before he was sent to live with his Nordic family.

"_Call me whatever you wish."_

Such an answer … how can he say that when he should be called _Mother_? Australia and New Zealand openly call him _Mum_ even at conferences. Up until now, Peter had always thought it was because they were teasing England but now … he suspected that there was more to it. Now, he wished he could speak those words so openly like them. But once more, the words would lose themselves in his throat and not a sound came out. He could only glare in fury at his own inability to communicate his feelings the way he wished to. He never says the right thing and when he gets really upset he never even says anything! So that's why … he could not stop Arthur from insulting himself.

* * *

Sweden paced around his empty house. He felt so lonely suddenly. Even after Finland earned his independence from him, the lovely Tino had been generous enough to stay with him, in his house. Berwald had tried so hard to fall in love with the sweet purple-eyed man. He truly did care for Tino. He loved him. A lot. But he wasn't IN love. No matter how much time had passed, he could never feel any attraction to Tino aside from platonic.

The only person who had been able to make his heart race … was the child that had made a deal with his father. The child that had surrendered his personal freedom as an individual to save the life and land of his brother. That same child who grew up into a man that blew Berwald's breath away. A man standing proud by his Queen's side, like a faithful knight. A man that had belonged to many and yet still retrieved its own freedom. A man he remembered meeting with a child in his arms, a small Spanish looking girl but harbouring the same emerald eyes as the man. Berwald remembers the jealousy boiling in him and the fury that threatened to erupt. He knew that Spain had lost and fallen but … but to have given a child to that beautiful man. The Swede didn't even question the biology of it. All he knew was that he wanted to capture and cherish that blonde man smiling at him like sunshine on the cold winter nights of his land.

Berwald sat down on a chair, reminiscing the years he had longed for England but never been able to fully admit his feelings. If he had spoken earlier maybe such a mess would not have happened? If only he had spoken earlier …

"… I … have a wife." Sweden dropped like a bomb before cursing himself.

There he was lying in bed with the person he craved most for and all he can say is that?! He hadn't even been able to tell England how he felt … ok, sure they had a bit too much to drink but both had been conscious of their actions and decisions. He felt Arthur sleepily shift next to him, his messy golden hair flying around his head on the pillow like the bright golden orb that was rising out the window. His ever-green eyes blinked heavily, framed by amazingly long lashes for a man, under the typically British thick eyebrows that Sweden had noticed is a trait all of the British Isles shared. His alabaster skin seemed to glow in the shy rays of sun, smooth and soft to the touch, almost like velvet. His lips parted in an amused smile that made Berwald's heart leap heaps and bounds.

"I know. Finland, right?" he spoke calmly with a melodious voice. Berwald couldn't sing and was always amazed at how easily and skilfully Arthur sung. But then again, his brothers were even better than him so maybe it ran in the family?

He nodded. Unable to speak. Simply staring as Arthur buried his face back into the pillow and slowly removed the arm he had wrapped around Sweden's torso. The Swede couldn't help but feel cold when Arthur's arm left his chest. He didn't know why but his body was frozen and his voice mute, almost forbidding him to seek the man by his side. Arthur looked up at the ceiling and a small sigh escaped his lips.

"Shame." He muttered but never explained his thought. Instead a smirk took over and his eyes gleamed of mischief.

"My brother is going to kill me when he finds out!"

Berwald tensed. Find out? He couldn't allow that to happen. He couldn't tell Tino that he cheated on him. Especially since … well, he had never gone beyond kissing with Finland. Arthur seemed to feel the other tense up and patted his arm gently. The contact made Berwald shiver in delight and he almost grabbed the smaller blonde to hug him. But he didn't. Maybe he should have.

"Don't worry. I … won't tell anyone. Well, aside from my brothers but they'll keep their mouths shut." Arthur whispered gently, pain in his beautiful green eyes.

Berwald didn't understand why Arthur was showing such a sad face. He didn't even understand why the Briton had let him have his way. Of course he had drunk too much and had gone a little possessive, letting his Viking-self take over. But it's not like Arthur couldn't have defended himself or stopped this from happening. Berwald knew he should not have let his inner desires take over but … but … but could not bring himself to regret his actions from last night. Not to mention the shocked and defeated look on Denmark's face when carried away his prize of the night.

What a prize …

Berwald allowed his hand to brush Arthur's cheek. The blonde blushed pink and let out a small hesitant smile. Berwald felt his own sour expression break and crackle into a kind and loving smile, that truly surprised the Englishman. He would not tell him. He couldn't tell him. Not England about his feelings. Not Tino about last night. And not the world about how blissful he was right now.

"… I should leave." Arthur suddenly pulled away, hiding his expression and causing Berwald to frown in concern but never voicing his worry.

In a misunderstood silence, Arthur left, and Berwald stayed in bed counting the coaches he had missed in life and in love. Not a word spoken. Not a soul would know. Only guilt was left in Berwald's heart and that was what kept him by Tino's side. Terrible guilt at the blissful innocence of his … wife.

He didn't know why Arthur had gotten upset? He had said anything … well, maybe that's why? But true to his word, Arthur returned to a distant tone with the Swede, never approaching him aside for business and never mentioned that night, like it had never happened.

Berwald almost believed so until one day … so suddenly …

The man that made his world turn showed up on his doorstep. With a child in his arms. The scene was so familiar it made Berwald angry and he almost glared (actually he did glare) at the sleeping child who barely looked 10. Blond. Looking so much like Arthur it could almost be a copy of the older nation. Berwald hadn't heard of Arthur having a new relationship (he followed closely) so you can understand his surprised when the English nation showed up on his doorstep with a mini-version of himself. Tino popped his head from behind Berwald to look at their visitor and he too turned surprised. He glanced at the child in curiosity while not noticing Berwald's intense gaze narrowed on Arthur. The Englishman gently shook the boy's shoulder as to wake him up.

Blue.

Deep Ocean Blue.

Berwald was shocked to meet similar eyes to his own in the child. He expected green. But it was blue … why? The child looked up at the Nordics in confusion then back at Arthur and his face in the Briton's shoulder.

"Peter, it's alright. This is Sweden and Finland." The man then looked up and locked eyes with Berwald, his face suddenly turning serious.

"I need … I need you to take my son."

* * *

Arthur sighed heavily as he sipped his tea. Peter was off listening to William's old records. Alistair went to fetch Fiona before she causes trouble with Patrick. And that left him alone to curse his fate. Now he had to deal with two undead nations! Great! Norway is probably trying to find a way to send Scadinavia back in his own time frame and that's why only Denmark showed up. But what troubled England was why Sweden and Finland were acting so … odd.

Arthur shook his head. He couldn't stop from feeling concerned about his old love … he first love. When he was taken to live with the Nordics (he had gotten an earful from Alistair once he came back) Arthur had progressively learnt to know these nations and actually enjoy their company. It was living with them that taught him how to act like a boy and forget his girl past. Norway shared his passion for magic. Denmark taught him how sail. And Berwald … well, he was afraid. Not of the serious boy. In fact, Berwald had been so nice and gentle with him … that's what had scared him. He didn't dare fall in love with not only the enemy but also a man.

If he were still a girl, maybe it would have been different but Arthur was determined to supress his past self and for that, he needed to look at girls and shun guys. No matter how cute they were.

But time seemed to be on his side. Berwald never once showed any interest in him and barely spoke to him. The distant tone between them had actually helped him in not showing his feelings. Spain and others also took his mind of the Nordic and before long he had settled his feelings into a passing crush.

They just had to have sex, didn't they?!

Although it was odd but drunk Sweden had been even less talkative than usual (if that's possible) and more aggressive. He got into a fight with Denmark and Arthur was enjoying watching them while chatting with Norway (the Britons, Germans and the Nordics had all gone out drinking). Arthur's brothers were having their own drinking contest with Prussia and Germany somewhere in a different pub … well, they had visited many so it's not surprise you'd lose people on the way.

Suddenly, out of the blues, Arthur felt his body being lifted and his face brought a few centimeters from Berwald's. He felt his cheeks flush at the hungry look of the Dane. For minute, he thought it was just the alcohol and Arthur decided to not let this go any further. But Denmark then pointed out the most stupid thing he could have said to Berwald at that moment.

"You already have Tino!"

That froze the Swede in place and Arthur expected him to let go and return to search for his wife. Like Berwald would normally do. But intoxicated Berwald did no such thing. Instead he glared at the Dane and with a low growl, he clashed his lips against Arthur's. His embrace tightened around the smaller blond and no matter what he did, Arthur could not escape. Nor did he want to.

The next day, his greeting was definitely the sane and normal Berwald talking.

"I … … have a wife."

Ah yes.

Of course.

After all, it really was just the alcohol.

Arthur sighed, knowing that after today he would definitely get over his feelings for the Nordic. Because for a first love to end like this is quite pathetic … … god, he just knows that he's going to end up crying his pain away at Alistair's. Arthur swore the Swede he would not speak a word of this and was still mildly hoping that Berwald would show some reaction to prove he did not just fuck last night out of lust only.

He smiled.

He smiled a gorgeous and never seen before smile.

Because Arthur would not tell Tino.

Ah.

Did Tino witness such a smile every day? Lucky him.

Arthur felt tears threatening to fall. To think that after so many heartbreaks he would have learn … guess not. Spain, China, and now Sweden … oh yay! People just left him like a broken doll and Alistair's the one to pick up the pieces and fix him.

" … I should go."

He didn't want to show his tears to the Nordic. Or anyone. Nobody would ever see England cry. That is what Arthur swore when he changed his identity. Albion's tears were so precious and deep … he will not overshadow them with England's tears! He will break, and fall, and drown.

But he definitely won't …

… Cry?

Arthur lifted a hesitant hand and touched his cheek. Tears? Ah well … nobody's here to see. It should be fine, no? After all, he's feeling more like Albion right now than England.

The blonde man smiled as he let the salty drops roll down his face. Not a word spoken. Not a soul would know. An unspoken truth. If the game is to keep silent … then Arthur had long won.

* * *

**AN: As you've probably guessed: Peter is the biological child of Sweden and England. Yeah, because he was obviously from England (I mean come on, a tiny little fort on English territorial seas? Plus originally it was an English abandoned fort) but now lives with Sweden and Finland. So I figured, since Arthur is a woman (in this story at least) giving birth should be normal, right? Soooo ... who's Peter's father? I took Sweden because it sounds more serious than if it were sweet little Tino.**

**But there is also the argument that during Elisabethian times (Elisabeth I) the King of Sweden constantly sent out marriage proposals to the English Queen. And unlike her other suitors (which were many) he was reputed to be seriously in love with Elisabeth I. Or so I heard. Anyway that would mean Sweden must have been feeling **_**something**_** for England, right? The way I see it: Tino is the wife. Arthur/Alice is the lover. And Berwald is a two-timer! No wonder Tino is mad!**


	6. When the Past walks back In

**Chap 5: When the Past walks back in**

_Fire_

_The villagers rushed towards the river in a frightened panic, their houses burning down and colouring the sky of a dirty grey aspect. The two identical boys looked up with fearful golden eyes at the rising flames. So beautiful yet so deadly …_

_They felt a movement behind them and a low warning growl call them. One of the boy brightly smiled and rushed to the side of the large raven black beast, hugging it like he would a mother. The other boy simply could not remove his gaze from the fire. Something in him wanted to rush to help and join these people … something in him seemed to be calling him to this land across the river._

"_Fratello! Let's hurry or the people will find us!" His younger twin called._

_The boy nodded and joined his brother and the large wolf accompanying them. Further away in the woods, the rest of the pack was waiting for them. Large menacing wolves growling in angst at the approaching fire. Both boys glanced back hesitantly at the dying village. Why did it feel like it was their home that they were losing? After all … they were wolves. Not men._

_Fire._

* * *

_A shot._

_An arrow lodged itself in their mother and both boys cried in agony with the rest of their pack. In an excess of anger and vengeful fury, the wolves, leaded by the twins had thrown a raid on the nearby town. That very same town that they saw burning to ashes and pitied in the past. That town that had rebuilt itself and biggered itself to the point of threatening Wolf territory. That town that felt like home and yet had mercilessly killed their mother._

_Fire._

_Turning their backs once more on that piece of burning land, the boys only felt inner peace and satisfaction. Their golden eyes found comfort in the flames that rose and devoured the town once again after 10 years. With the stench of blood and their bodies painted red, the boys guided the rest of their pack back to the safety of their forest, crying silent tears for their deceased mother. No matter what revenge they pursued, the aching pain and the giant hole in their heart never stopped throbbing._

"_Fratello … We shall leave." The older twin mumbled while his younger brother shot him a surprised look._

"_Where to?"_

"_To men."_

* * *

_Fire._

_Revenge is painful and addictive. Remus understood that but only too late. Once again, they watched a city burn thanks to their doing. The city that belonged to their real mother. And the place they discovered just how terrifying beings they had been born as._

_Not wolves._

_Not men._

_They were worse. 100 years had passed and they still looked like young men in their prime. Their pack had died, hunted by men and exterminated. For each wolf, a city had burned. And now, for abandoning them, for trying to drown them, for murdering their biological mother, the sons of a god would defy and punish men._

_The land will burn._

_And they would rebuild it. Kinder. Safer. Warmer. With peace in its core. They would end the constant wars tearing cities and towns apart. They would end the rivalries of men. They would purify the greed and selfishness. They would. Surely._

_After all, aren't they sons of gods? If not, why would they be immortal?_

"_Fratello, let's go." Romulus smiled at his brother and in that instant, Remus realised that his brother … had lost himself._

_Revenge is a terrifying addiction._

_As frightening as fire._

_Fire._

* * *

"_You can't! You can't be the chosen one!"_

"_Sister Greece said so! She conversed with the gods! I shall be the founder of Peace!" Romulus' tone was strict and unforgiving. Remus growled, similar to a wolf and his eyes glaring in threat. But his twin only shook his head in derision._

"_When will you stop this, Fratello? We are not wolves."_

"_Clearly. But we are not men either. Nor gods!"_

"_We are gods! We are the heart of the land and the people! If not a god, what are we?"_

"_I know well what you are, Fratellino. You are a fool."_

_Romulus growled back, ignoring his earlier remark of not being a wolf. It brought a smile to Remus' face as he then glanced at the carved line his brother had dug in the ground. A frontier. The first of its kind. Something to separate you from me. A line with many significance and implications._

_Stupido Fratellino._

"_Is this your solution, then?" He looked back meeting the golden eyes of his twin. Romulus nodded._

"_I do not wish to harm you, Fratello. But this land … is my home."_

"_Our home. We were born together, Stupido."_

"_But I shall make it whole again. We burned it down so many times already that the land is black in agony." Romulus' face turned sad as he glanced at the deserted land by the river. On the other side, both twins didn't dare to look back at the forest that had hosted them for their whole childhood. There were no wolves anymore. The forest looked frightening and dead to the adult men these twins had become._

"_Help me Fratello! Let's build this land our own!" Romulus looked hopefully at his serious brother but his only response was a sharp empty laugh of derision._

"_There can only be one leader." Remus spoke solemnly. "That is the rule."_

"_But we are not wolves, Fratello! We can change this rule!"_

"_Men also only have one King, don't they?" Remus spat the word _Men_, like it were poison. He wasn't as forgiving as his brother. Nor as foolish._

"… _Very well. If you do not wish to work with me, then I shall ban you from my land."_

"_Ban me?! And where too, pray tell?"_

"_Go South. I shall not harm you and you can go build your own city. But know that within these walls, if you dare step foot in, I shall have no choice but to kill you. I will consider this as a challenge of my authority, since you seem determined to solve this the way our mother taught us. Challenge me, and you shall die."_

"_These walls? Are you referring to that line in the ground? Challenge you? Romulus, you are the one challenging me! I am the elder son! You should be obeying me. This land is mine to build."_

"_I will leave you peace because you are my brother. But this land is mine. I shall build my home on it. This is Roma."_

"_Roma? Ha! Your ego is going to destroy you one day, little fratellino!"_

"… _Please leave."_

_Romulus turned away from his brother, ending the conversation. He prayed his brother would listen and walk away. He didn't want to shed blood so similar to his own. He didn't want to lose his only family. He didn't want to kill Remus._

"_You're a fool, Romulus. We both are. And that's why … one of us must die." Remus smirked as he watched his brother's horrified yet furious expression._

_He had stepped over the line._

_The Challenge could not be taken back._

_One man shall die._

* * *

…

_Can a god die?_

_Remus felt his body grow cold and his vision turn blurry. He could see tears run down the face of his foolish brother and yet an insane grin stretched to Romulus' ears. Remus felt no tears of his own but a low cackling grew from the back of his throat. The intoxicating smell of blood filled the air around them._

_It is sad … how their addiction had turned them into such monsters. All that is missing is the fire. Instead, they were greeted by rain. The sky cried the tears that these two gods could not have enough of._

"_I feel … cold …" Remus spoke in almost a bored observation. He didn't need to be a god to know that he is dying._

"_You're bleeding, Remus." Romulus had stopped calling him Fratello. Ah. But so had he. Remus realised he too had lost the word Fratellino after stepping foot in this future city._

_Remus let out a dry laugh, coughing out blood under the bemused eyes of his sibling._

"_I told you. We are not gods. Only fools. And like fools, we can die." Remus smirked and watched as he planted the seed of fear in his brother._

_You will die too._

_Like you killed me, someone will kill you too._

_And like fallen gods, people will forget us. Your Roma is going to forget you and one day will belong to another. Your life will become words spoken in the wind, without any meaning._

"_I won't die! I'm not as pathetic as you!"_

"_Amusing. I cannot but laugh at the monster you have become. It's a pity … I hold only one regret …" Remus let out a small breath, already paining to keep conscious._

"_I wish … I could have been the one to kill you. Roma."_

"_That makes you monster like me." Romulus spoke but it was to a dead corpse._

* * *

Remus blinked awake.

He was … not dead? Odd. His hands trailed down his naked chest and he felt the large scar over his heart. It stung just like when Romulus had dug his sword through it. That had not been a dream. Then why … is he not dead?

Looking around, the naked man noticed that he was in some sort of building. But not a building he had ever seen the likes before. This looked like a Temple of some sort but so grand and rich and out of this world. For minutes he could do nothing but stare in fascinated awe. The sound of footsteps interrupted his admiration and he looked up at the man dressed in some odd looking robe with golden lining. The man had golden eyes like his own and hair of a light brown with a strange hair curl spinning up and around like some sort of halo. His skin was paler than Remus' proving that he little contact with the sun. But he definitely held similar facial features to the Ancient.

Both blinked in stupefaction at each other until the priest hissed in indignation and frantic panic.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THIS SACRED GROUND COMPLETELY NAKED?!"

Vatican rarely shows his emotions but the outrage before was enough to make him go bonkers. If this is another mistake to be blamed on his insufferable Italian neighbours, then he would definitely kill those twins! How dare this naked bastard sit there in San Pietro like some low-life beggar!

Remus tilted his head, smirking in amusement at the outburst of the other man.

"Where is this?" He spoke and to Vatican surprise, he spoke perfect fluent Latin (the official language of Vatican). Stunned, Vatican answered out of reflex and also in Latin.

"Vatican city. In Rome. Italy."

"Roma? How amusing!" The naked Remus stared to laugh like a crazy maniac. Roma? So his brother really had achieved it? Well, then, what a good opportunity to meet up with said brother. It'd be nice to see him again … dead would be even nicer.

* * *

China is old. A very old nation and probably the oldest nation in modern world. And being so old, comes with a price. Like seeing others die while you just live on. And on. And on. There are many nations China had been sad to see vanish. Friend he was angry to have lost. But there is also one person he wished to never see come back. One person he was glad to see fall and lie dead at his feet. One person he definitely did not want brought back to life and on his doorstep.

"Little Emperor? Fancy meeting you here!"

Oh dear lord … He needs to call Arthur. Now, that is also something terrifying him: Being desperate enough to call Arthur for help!

"Shifu? Who's that?" Hong Kong looked from behind the stunned figure of China at the large man at their door. China's pale face was not a good sign.

"Leon … call England."

Now that is an even worse sign! Hong Kong nodded, shocked to witness China so frightful that he would ask him to call England.

"Is that your kid? Where's your wife? She must be something! I wonder if I'll take her too."

"You'll have trouble in doing so." China finally answered back the visitor.

"And why is that?" The other man laughed while lifting an eyebrow at the sudden cheek the little Emperor was showing.

"He would kill you." China concluded and shut the door in the other's face, leaving the man confused by his words.

"_He_? What _he_?" The bulky man tilted his head in confusion and dropped himself by the door to take a nap. He'd bother the little Emperor later. For now, he just wanted to understand what he was doing here.

* * *

America blinked a few minutes before his face broke into a wide grin, recognition in his blue eyes.

"Canadia! Bro! How's it going? What're you doing here?"

"It's Canada!" Matthew sighed before letting himself in under Alfred's ramble of nonsense.

"Look, Alfred, I'm not here to chitchat!"

"Eh? Then what do you want? Need my awesome heroness?" A flashing 50 stars smile stretched on Alfred's face but only made Matthew roll his eyes.

"No. I'm here about something that troubles me. You remember Rome, right?"

Immediately Alfred's expression turned serious and almost murderous.

"The Italian bastard that keeps flirting with England during meetings?"

"Uh … yeah, that one. Well he's still around but I heard Arthur is working on sending him back to his time."

"He's still here! Damn, when is he fucking leaving?!"

"Alfred, shut up!"

And Alfred did.

Surprisingly, he realised his brother was actually being very serious. Canada usually never speaks above a shy whisper level but just then, his authoritative voice was almost sounding like England's.

Scary!

"Dude … calm down, Mattie! What's the matter?"

"I'll tell you what the matter is, you impossible dumbass! If you looked around you'd have noticed too! There isn't only Rome that's a problem now!"

"What do you mean?"

"On my way to your house they even attacked me!"

"Who did, Mat?"

"The tribes!"

"… Kaya*?"

"No, not Kaya! Of course not her! I meant the old ones! The _dead_ ones!"

"EH? But they're dead!"

"Thank you for pointing it out Captain Obvious!"

"But but … Did Kaya bring them back with some Voodoo magic?"

"I don't think Kaya has enough stupidity or magic to do something like that! Matthew rolled his eyes. Although Alfred claimed not to believe in Magic (usually to piss off England) he was actually the first one to believe in the supernatural and had a sick phobia of it. Ghosts, monsters, witchcraft, anything with magic, spells panic-attack for Alfred.

"What do we do?! Oh my god! They can't be back! They died! What do we do?!"

"Alfred! Calm down! The first thing to do is simple!"

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Call England."

Alfred blinked a few moments before bursting in laughter.

"You're not serious!"

"Do you have a better option?"

"But England is … I can't … He'd never believe us!"

"Actually, he would be the first to believe us, Alfred! Now, just because your ego is too damn big for you realise is something else! I don't care if you feel humiliated but asking England for help is our best bet!"

"But that means I'd have to admit that his magic thing is real!"

"Well if you don't believe in it, why are you panicking like a frightened child?"

"But I can't ask _England_! He's … _England_! What would it me look like!"

"Like the idiot you always are. Now phone him before I do it myself!"

* * *

Greece patted the cat's head, his eyes never leaving the grey ones of the woman before him. She didn't know him. She didn't recognise him. She hardly noticed him, had he not talked to her.

"Your cats are cute."

"Yeah."

"What's your name, you said?"

"Heracles Karpusi."

"That's funny. We have the same name."

"Yeah."

"I'm Helena Karpusi."

"I know."

"How?"

"We met."

"When?"

"Later."

"Oh. I see."

Both ended their conversation and their attention fully focused on the cute cats by their side, petting them and holding them. They really were so similar. Both man and woman seated on the stairs of a ruined temple from Ancient Greece playing with cats.

Disturbing.

* * *

"Arthur! Another phone call!"

"Who was it?"

"Canada. I heard America freak out in the background too." Wales sat back in his seat in the library, next to the Irish twins, both so focused on their readings to even argue.

"What did Matthew say?"

"Talked about Tribes coming back to life."

"Natives?"

"I'm guessing."

"Terrific! They just keep popping up with each passing day!" Arthur face palmed while next to him Alistair was growling in irritation.

"The eejit that broke our door is so going to pay for this …" The Scot threatened in a low voice, earning a nod of agreement from the others.

* * *

…

Back in Rome, Feliciano sneezed.

"Vee … that's odd. Did I catch a cold? Ve, I heard Japan say that when you sneeze, people talk about you behind your back … I hope Arthur is talking about me!" The pasta lover smiled idiotically before rushing to break off another argument between his Nonno and his Fratello.

* * *

*** Kaya is my OC of the modern days Native Americans. Kaya means Older Sister in ... I can't remember which tribal language, sorry. It fits, since she's older than Alfred and Matthew. She's not really known to the rest of the world much because America is mainly in charge. Note: She hates being considered as part-of-America and likes to show her independence. She holds a grudge towards Europeans for causing the loss of all Tribes (that's what I call them when not being specific).**

**AN: The Tribes that Matthew mentions are the past natives that ruled american soil before europeans came around. The remains of those people is now personified by my OC Kaya. Though in the past you had many different tribes of American Indians, I might not use all of them and just select a few ... if you have any advice to give me on how to portray them, be my guest!**


	7. England missing day - Mark 2

**Chap 6: England's missing day – Mark 2**

* * *

**AN: You probably noticed but the Italics at the beginning of each chapter is either a memory/flashback or a dream (like in Feliciano's case). Don't be confused by the back and forth in time.**

* * *

_The hungry flames rose, devouring every inch of wall in sight. The burned wood of the floor grumbled under her feet but that didn't matter. She kept running. She checked through every room until she finally found him. Lifting up her bow she pointed her arrow on the tall figure by the window. Outside, Rome was burning._

"_So it was you. I shouldn't be surprised."_

_She held her weapon, position firm and unafraid. Her heart was pounding loudly against her chest. She knew that she had to do it! She wanted to do it! And she knew that this would be her only chance. The man turned around, carelessly dusting off his toga and speaking in such a disinterested way like they were talking about the weather or the latest play at the Amphitheatre. His golden eyes similar to an eagle's settled on the small figure threatening his life. He let out a laugh._

"_How ironic! The greatest empire of all times will fall to the hands of his latest conquest!" he smirked, amused. "You've done well. Everyone thinks Germania's sudden betrayal caught me off guard and that he is the one who took me down."_

"_And everyone will keep thinking that." She hissed back._

"_Oh? So you really are going to remain in the shadows? Why? You're the one pointing your arrow at me."_

"_Germania's troops are the ones invading your land."_

"_True. But who let them in?" The man's smirk grew as he saw the child stiffen._

_They both remained still and silent as they stared at each other. The burning walls around them didn't seem to bother them. Nor did the cracking sound of the floor under their feet that might grumble at any minute. Rome watched the small figure with an amused expression. He couldn't feel angry at his colony. He had always known this child to be troublesome. He just didn't realise how much trouble she could be. And yet, he still couldn't help himself from wishing the impossible. He walked up closer to the child and knelt down on one knee so that they were now at the same eye vision. The blonde tensed, suddenly feeling insecure and her body position became defensive. Rome chuckled and with his hand brushed off the blond strands of gold._

"_I wonder … what would you have become? I wish I could have seen you grow up … I wish I could witness your future … then I would have made you mine."_

"_Think again because that wish will never become true!"_

"_I know. Pity. If I had lived a little longer or you were born a little earlier … I wonder, little Albion … what would have happen?" The man's purring dark laughter caused the child to shiver._

_She took a few steps back, creating a certain distance between herself and her former owner. Romulus smiled and got back up, walking back towards the window. He watched the two figures of his grandsons running away in the streets below._

"_What about my heirs?"_

"… _They're not you." Albion spoke harshly. She liked the Italian twins and was quite fond of them. They were not responsible for their Roman ancestor's actions. Rome smiled in relief._

"_Thank you."_

"_I'm not here to please your conscious." She raised her arrow back into its initial position._

"_I know. You're here to avenge, aren't you?"_

"… _I'm here to protect my family." She replied with resolute determination._

"_Ah … You still think this way? You really are pure, aren't you? Such a pure little heart committing a sin beyond its understanding." Rome chuckled. "You do realise that if not me, someone else will come to interfere with your … _family_ as you call it."_

"_And I'll stop them."_

"_You won't. Unless you grow strong … stronger than anyone … unless you grow into an Empire that can assure safety by your mere name." Rome's voice was cold but Albion thought he heard it break at some point. It must have been her imagination._

"_If so, then I will. I will become an Empire greater than any! An Empire greater than yours!"_

"_Will you now? Then, I should warn you, having done this myself … Think of it as my personal heritage to you, sweet one." Rome smiled and turned a dark expression towards the child. "An Empire is built on sins. Hatred becomes a normality. And fear is all the power you hold. Only betrayal of your heart can break you down. The greater the Empire, the colder his heart. Lies and secrets are your only truth. And happiness can only be a sweet dream."_

_The arrow flew and hit the man's chest right through his heart. Rome's body stilled before suddenly bursting into flames. He tilted backwards and hit the ground. Albion walked to the window ledge to check that she had accomplished her mission._

"_Don't patronise me on things I already know." She mumbled to the burning dead body. Her eyes grew wide in panic as she recognised the small twins nearby in the street. They were staring at the body of their grandfather, their confused and panicked eyes lifted upwards to the window. Albion gritted her teeth and walked away. Too late to turn back now. The blood was already on her hands. She won't burden anyone with it. Clenching her fists, she cursed at the teary expressions she had seen on the twins' faces. It's too late now. If they hated her, then that's fine. It's better if they never get anywhere near her again. Never._

_The building collapsed. But neither the dead man nor the child's body were ever found._

* * *

Arthur jumped awake, cold sweat rolling down his temples and forehead, his eyes wide and terrified, breathless like he had ran a life or death marathon. He didn't scream. He never did. Not anymore. Calming himself down, the blonde looked around and sighed.

"Guess _that_ day's coming again …" Arthur groaned as he got up and felt a sudden pain in his abdomen. Luckily there was no conference today. Thank god for that! He didn't want to go all over the drama from last year!

Dragging his feet down the stairs, Arthur cursed at his nauseas feeling and the churning of his stomach. He glanced at the grand-father clock in the hall as he passed it. He overslept. David will get mad at him for missing the referendum they were meant to discuss concerning Scotland's independence. Oh well … Scotland should be fine dealing with it alone. Arthur noticed how quiet the Kirkland manor felt. North probably went on another assassination mission against Ireland again. The blond sighed as he anticipated the diplomatic tensions he would have to solve between his two ginger siblings. Nothing new here. And Wales … Oh, he did say that he had to head back to his own place today to sort out a few things.

That was a change. It's rare for Arthur to be alone at home. Rare but today, he was glad to be alone. Any other time he probably would have gotten bored. America may think he's a lonely old dog but he's not. He just has a sufficiently busy and animated life back home and he didn't need it at work too! But right now, peace and quiet sounds great. Usually on that day, his brothers would get all worked up and Arthur hated seeing the sad powerless expressions on their faces. He couldn't blame them. He'd feel like that too if he were in their place. But at least, he won't have to deal with their pity again. Arthur hates pity.

"Master! You're awake! Master Alistair said you looked sick and told us to take care of you! He said he'd deal with Mr the Prime Minister." Tinker bell chimed as she and a group of faeries gathered around the man who walked into the kitchen.

Busying himself with the teapot, Arthur nodded distractively. He felt Flying Mint Bunny jump on his shoulder and snuggle near his neck, sniffing him out.

"Master! Your scent is changing! Is it that day again?" the green rabbit spoke with worry and the faeries flew nearer, trying to check out the health of their master. Arthur dismissed them.

"Yeah but don't worry. I'm fine."

"Would you like us to contact Master Alistair?" another faery asked in their typical squeaking voice.

"Please don't. I don't want to trouble him. I'll be fine. I just need some rest."

"Alright, master! Call us if you need anything!" Tinker nodded and flew off, followed by the others.

It wasn't new. Every year this day would come. They were all used to it and they knew that Arthur felt the most vulnerable at that moment. And Arthur hates to feel vulnerable.

"Master …" The bunny hesitated as he saw Arthur pause in the making of his tea. The blond shook his head and smiled.

"I'm fine. It's just for a couple of weeks. I'll be back to normal in no time."

"Don't overwork yourself." The rabbit mumbled before vanishing in a cloud of dust.

Arthur walked back up to his room, tea cup in hand. He slid in his bed, avoiding to trip over the large wild cat snoring at the foot of the bed. Arthur strokes the golden fur with a fond smile. The animal shook slightly before settling back into a deep undisturbed sleep. The soft buzzing of Arthur's phone on his bedside table came unheard as the Englishman imitated the cat and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Italy is not known to have the best of memories. He can hardly remember what day it is, or his plans for the said day. Unless Germany phones to remind him of his work schedule every day, Italy would laze around in bed, cook, paint and enjoy is quiet peaceful life, not realising that he does have duties like all nations do. Mind you, Italy is far from being a clueless idiot (thing people always assume about him). He's actually quite smart … when he bothers to think. And his mind is probably much more accurate than most. And believe it or not … but Feliciano's memory is probably the best of all the nations of the world.

Proof?

He still remembered that one time when England suddenly vanished and they all got trapped in some strange castle playing death games with a crazy girl that looked a lot like England. Oddly enough, nobody else remembered. They all thought it to be a dream at first and slowly, even the dream dissipated. But Feliciano still remembered every detail of that time. He didn't understand much but what he did understand was that nothing good comes out from seeking a disappearing England. Nothing at all.

So why are they doing this all over again?

Feliciano stared at the gossiping nations as whispers invaded the room. One question on everybody's mind and one empty seat at the conference table. Déjà vu much?

"Dudes! Something's wrong!"

The nations all stared at the frowning American. Alfred lifted his drink of Coke up as he flailed his arms around in an impressive gesture, trying to sound important as he explained himself.

"England hasn't answered any of my calls! And he didn't show up today at all!"

The rest of the world sighed in exasperation. Half of the world's nations were absent due to the short notice of America's world gathering meeting. They weren't surprised that England couldn't make it either. Especially since England would be expectedly busy trying to find a way to solve the mystery of the appearing dead nations from Ancient times. America, on the other hand, was convinced that something was wrong. Even if Arthur was unavailable, he always sent someone! Usually his weird brother Wales. Or if not, at least he notified back! But here, he didn't answer the 45 missed calls and the 57 text messages or even the 39 voicemails left by yours-truly-the-hero! Usually, England would immediately reply to any text or phone call! Why not today? Was he sick? Had he been kidnapped? Was he still alive? Did Rome kidnap him?

"America … Maybe that will teach you not to just assume that everyone will be free if you request their presence." Germany sighed. He had had to rush in order to make it for this unexpected meeting. He hated unexpected meetings. They were even more chaos and disorganised than normal meetings. Strangely, all of the ex-Axis and ex-Allies (minus England and the rest of the UK) have been able to make it as well as most European nations.

"Yeah but dude! This is _England_ we're talking about! He's just a sad old man living alone in a huge empty house, right? How could he not be free?" America asked with such a genuine expression it chagrined the German that England's ex-colony thought so little of the once great empire. Although … to be fair, Germany didn't think England would have normally ignored a call from America. He was sure that the island nation would have at least answered and told them that he wasn't coming.

As he mused over this, Ludwig felt an odd sense of déjà vu … shaking the feeling away, the German's sky blue eyes turned to the person he thought would hold answers to this mystery … except the man is too busy molesting the Italian twins … oh, now he gets hit by Spain … and now they're fighting. Terrific. Germany sighs before breaking up the fight between the two Latins. He waved off the cursing Spaniard who rushed to make sure that his lovely Lovi was safe. Then Ludwig focused his attention on the sulking Frenchman.

"Oi. Will you stop causing more trouble than necessary? You're even worse than my bruder." Honestly … why was he in a business relation with this guy again?

"Well what else do you expect me to do?" France huffed angrily. "I'm bored! I hate those pointless meetings! The only good thing about them is the fighting and arguing! But mon petit maître isn't here so I need to find someone else to piss off, don't I? Besides, the Italians are sooo cuuute~"

"So you don't know where he is either?"

"Probably crawling under his boss' paperwork. Or sorting out the Roman problem." France shrugged, barely interested. "Why?"

"America is worried. Thinks something's wrong and …"

"And?" France looked up with a sudden curiosity at his European partner.

"And I'm starting to think he might be right." Ludwig sighed.

"Why? I mean Amérique just called us so suddenly … Besides, Angleterre is probably just being cranky and all …" Francis frowned in confusion as a small doubt started to creep in his mind.

"Ja ja, I know … but America said he tried phoning and texting him all day with no response. I just think that normally, England would notify us or something." Ludwig mumbled. Maybe he was overthinking this. Francis started to nod in understanding.

"Je vois … Indeed it is strange … I didn't get a call from Écosse or either of his other brothers."

"Yeah! So something must be up!" America chimed in, making the two blonds jump in surprise as they realise he had intruded and followed their entire conversation … as did all the other countries surrounding them like an eager group of listeners, meaning: America (already mentioned), Russia, Canada (they didn't notice him), The Italy twins, Spain, Prussia, Japan, China, and since they had coincidently been sitting next to him, Greece who had strangely woken up and followed with dazed eyes the conversation. He had found the whole issue somewhat entertaining and so temporarily interrupted his nap. Germany cursed as he took notice of their small audience. Francis shrugged.

"Guess we're settled, mon ami. I don't think they'll let us continue this meeting unless we get fixed on Angleterre's situation. To be honest, I'm starting to worry myself too."

"Why on earth did we gather here for in the first place?" Ludwig grumbled as he face-palmed.

"Who cares! The hero decided that we will now investigate the case of the disappearing island!" America cheered.

"America … England is not an island. It's only part of … Never mind. Nobody's listening to me anyway." The soft sigh of the Canadian came unheard. Sadly he was probably the only one aware that England doesn't equal UK. And you would be wise to remember that. Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland do not take it down well when they get ignored. Don't even mention Ireland (he actually left the UK)! But that is a fact that the world's nations will soon discover and without a doubt never forget ever again.

At least this time, they definitely will _remember_!

* * *

"America did we really need to sneak into England's apartment in the middle of the night?"

"Dude, what better time? It's cool and we're like spies! England would never let us in otherwise!"

"I can understand his reluctance." Germany sighed.

"Amigo, we've looked everywhere but he's not here."

The intruding nations all gathered in the large living room of the large apartment in London. Not just the flat but the whole building belonged to England, except that he often kept the other flats as storage rooms or rented them to people. They had all visited Arthur in London at least once. But why wasn't he here? America felt his blood chill in worry.

"Dudes I told you! He's in danger! OMG! He must have been abducted by aliens!"

"Calm down America-san! I believe England is simply away visiting someone more likely than being abducted by aliens or otherwise."

"Japan's right. Does anyone have any idea where England could be so that we can get on with this issue and move on with our lives?" Ludwig let out another deep sigh. This was getting more confusing and tiring by the second. France took a pensive expression before pointing out his suggestion.

"I may be wrong but … I think Arthur has another home. I heard it when he talked with Écosse over the phone. He mentioned home as in _their_ home." France spoke with a faraway look. Somehow … in the back of his mind, he felt like this was not the first time this scene was occurring.

Taking in the blank faces of the other nations, Francis sighed as he tried his best to explain himself.

"You all know that England has siblings, right? Together they form the United Kingdom. Well, I think they have individual houses for each of them but also a combined home for all of them. Maybe Arthur is there?"

"Veee … I don't think it's a good idea."

They all jumped at the shy voice of Feliciano. Throughout the whole panic, not once had the Italian, or his brother in fact, spoken a single word. They both kept grim faces that didn't suit them at all and made them look scarier than Russia. Their eyes were determined and worried.

"Then where's the fucking house, perverted bastard?" Romano growled, ignoring his brother's warning and making Francis jump. Ludwig was surprised, as was everyone else, at how serious the twins seemed. They looked very concerned about the missing blond for some odd reason.

Frankly, the reason was that Feliciano and Lovino both felt strongly attracted to the moody island nation. Lovino since … he can't even remember when he started to feel this. Feliciano was little more than a year ago although a nagging feeling at the back of his mind told the Italian that there was more to it than just a simple crush. And if that wasn't enough … Feliciano had managed to keep his freeloader back in Italy and not show up at the improvised meeting but if his grandpa (not quite yet but you get the idea) heard of Arthur missing, he would be most upset. For some reason, the Latin had taken a strong liking to the blonde island and would only come to world meetings to chat up England … and fail miserably.

"W-well … I don't actually know where their house is. I know Scotland's house is in Glasgow and England's apartment here but …" Francis shook his head, powerless.

"This won't do! Everyone! We need to find England! Get all your secret service power if you must but we have to find England's house!" America yelled and by doing so, he covered the quiet voice of his older brother.

"I-I think I might have an idea of England's whereabouts …" Canada sighs as he realises that once again, nobody noticed him. This is going to be a long night.

* * *

England groaned as he felt a sudden burning pain rushing down his arm. He gripped his shoulder, nails digging deep into the skin and breaking it, leaving little red marks. Arthur didn't even have the energy to curse. He looked out his window and behind the closed curtains, noticed that night had already fallen. Figures. His eyes drifted to his alarm clock but his blurry vision made him unable to check the time. Sighing, Arthur could only guess from the increasing unbearable pain that midnight was approaching.

He felt a shape move closer to his bed and a soft muzzle tuck to his arm. Arthur smiled and started to stroke the now purring animal. A low growl concluded the petting as the cat settled down and fell back to sleep. He had just checked on his master's well-being and was now satisfied enough to doze back to sleep. Chuckling, Arthur tried to fall back to sleep too but the pain just wouldn't let him. And he knew that medicine would not help in anyway. Not with this kind of pain. So Arthur was cursed to suffer in silent agony until tomorrow. Bloody great.

The blond heard the sound of a door downstairs. Wales? No. Wales is at his place and won't be coming back before tomorrow afternoon. North? That all depends on how successful her assassination went but she'll probably not be back until tomorrow too. That leaves Scotland. No sooner had Arthur come to this conclusion than the door of his room opened and a worried face came into view. With short messy crimson hair parted in the middle causing his blood red hair to fall slightly in his emerald green eyes, a strong jaw structure and a skin as fair and milky as England's, with earrings and rings running down his earlobes, his thick characteristic eyebrows knitted together in a concerned frown, Alistair Kirkland entered his brother's room.

"Oi … you alright there lad?"

"Yeah …" Arthur croaked with a broken voice that was higher pitched than usual.

"You should have told me it was today." The red haired scolded gently as he took seat at the end of the bed, careful not disturb Arthur's position. The blond didn't have the strength to answer but his eyes clearly spoke his mind: '_Your reaction now is exactly why I didn't tell you'_. Scotland shook his head in exasperation. Honestly, why was his wee brother so stubborn?!

"Just tell me, ok?" he sighed but didn't expect any response. He knew how painful it was for Arthur even to stay conscious. The blond nodded but his expression was dazed and staring into space with the empty look of a doll. Alistair bit his lip. Every time he saw it, he was reminded of that one time. No matter the years, the decades, the centuries, he just never gets used to it. Even if it does happen every year. Yet, Alistair still made sure to show no pity on his face. He didn't even _feel_ pity for his brother. And he knew that Arthur didn't want any. He wouldn't in his place either. Why would you want pity at a time when you're at your weakest and struggling to fight your memories? Besides, Arthur hates pity more than anything. And so Alistair never shows him any. But he can't help his worry and guilt. It is his fault after all. It's his fault that Arthur has to go through this ordeal every fucking damn year.

"Sorry …" The man mumbled as he saw his brother's body tense suddenly and Arthur gasps in pain. The younger man curled himself up in a ball, shaking nervously, cold sweat rolling down his burning skin. And all Alistair could do was watch. He wasn't even allowed to feel sorry for him. Because Arthur hated pity. All that remains is the striking guilt.

"I'm sorry … Alice …"

* * *

The tall man in white checked his pocket watch, the golden chain hanging from his waist-coat polished to a perfect shine. Midnight. It's time. He claps his hands, the candles light up. He points at the cold fire place, roaring flames rise. He glances at the table, dishes blink into existence all more succulent than the other. He snaps his fingers, the piano's keys come to life and a soothing melody invades the castle. Standing proudly at the door, he smiles in satisfaction at his work before facing back to the large wooden doors. Moving into a bow, the doors opened and revealed to him the approaching figures.

"Welcome home My Lord."

The crimson haired man nodded distractedly, carrying in his arm the unconscious figure of his sister. By his side, the small blonde boy in a sailor's suit looked around in fascinated awe. They walked in without a word, the doors shutting behind them.

"Have you solved our little problem, Sir?" Bunny inquired as they both past the Blue Door with its broken lock.

"No. Have you seen anyone walk through that door since our last conversation?"

"No, Sir. Not a soul has or would venture these walls. You should know this."

"Just checking." Alistair glared at the staircase, daring it to play its usual disappearing act. He was not in the mood for this right now. He needed to secure Alice before someone gets the foolish idea of visiting them and seeing her.

What Alistair didn't anticipate was that maybe … Alice had already visitors.


	8. Past Midnight meet Dawn

**Chap 7: Past Midnight meet Dawn**

_Eir growled in sudden rage. Of all the things his crazy sister could ask of him, why on Earth would she even _consider_ such an option?! Next to him, watching with a horrified expression on his usually calm and smiling face, Cymru was praying whatever gods up there to intervene and not let her sister go through with … this! Alba only stared blankly. The request was undeniably … shocking._

"_You can't be serious?! This is …!" Eir whispered in an angry breath._

_Albion's cold expression was disturbing enough as it was but the intense look and determination in her green eyes was something Alba had never seen in his life before. Alice let out a sad sigh, barely audible. Why was it so difficult to understand? She needed to do this! She had to. She had to … disappear._

"_Please …" She whispered softly._

_The ginger haired boy shook his head firmly as he tried to force his sister to put her tunic back on. Why won't she understand? He can't do that! He can't just … just …seal her identity! He was pushed aside by his younger crimson haired brother. Growling at him, Patrick tried to stop him but Alistair had already placed his hand on Alice's shoulder. The red haired boy glared at the Roman imprint on the girl's skin. Rome had thought it wise to place his mark on her to the point where he had burned it into her skin for eternity. Caressing the R shape on her shoulder blade, Alistair whispered softly._

"_This might take a while. Brace yourself."_

_And he started chanting. Patrick yelled at him to stop. William could only watch with a panicked expression. And Alys cried out in pain. Alistair's hand glowed of a soft blue and grew in intensity as his chant grew stronger. Alys screamed as the mark burned her. Alistair's fingers drew a pattern in her skin, burning her gently. Soon, the R had been modified into a Celtic seal glowing blue and bleeding a carving ran from her shoulder-blade down her arm, sealing itself at the wrist. Scriptures, knots and seals mixing into a complex and intricate design carved in her skin forever. Alistair removed his hand and Alys dropped to the ground still screaming and curling up into a ball, her arm's glow never stopped and simply increased, along with the bleeding. Patrick punched his brother, yelling at him, cursing him. William went over to support Alys but she still kept screaming in pain, her body slowly changing._

"_What have you done?!" Patrick yelled at his beaten up brother. Alistair didn't even resist the beating. If anything he thought he deserved it._

"_I killed Albion." He muttered darkly._

_Patrick watched with wide eyes his sister's body change. Her screams became unbearable and for an entire day, 24 hours, they watched and listened to her agonise. Once the seal was fully in place, Albion had died. Her body fell limp on the floor like a corps, in a pool of blood. Her blood._

"_Why did you do that …?" Patrick hissed angrily as he watched his crimson haired brother pick up the unconscious body of their … _brother_. Alistair frowned darkly at him._

"_Because Alys asked me."_

"_You're not serious?!"_

"_Does this seal not look serious enough to you?" Alistair lifted up Albion's unconscious body, showing off the Celtic seal carved in her bleeding flesh._

"_You can't keep her sealed forever! Your magic isn't strong enough!"_

"_I know. I couldn't seal her completely. She'll return to normal from time to time. I'm not sure for how long or how often but I'll find a way to make this permanent eventually."_

"_You're insane? If mother knew of this …"_

"_Really? You're going to throw that card at me, brother? You're the one who can't even bare to look at our sister ever since she came back! You're the one who can't accept her the way she is!"_

_Eir felt his blood chill as he was frowned down by the furious emeralds of his younger brother._

"… _She's not the sister I lost." The Irish Island muttered in a breath._

"_So what? You expected her to return untarnished? You expected her to return with a smile and laughing? Eir … Even if she had returned … would you really have not held any grudge against her?"_

_The words of the Scot slashed into the icy atmosphere of the room. Neither of the British brothers spoke, mulling over the words of the crimson haired one._

"_It wasn't her fault." Alistair hissed suddenly angry at his siblings._

_Of course, he felt angry! Of course, it would be easier to blame it all on Albion! Of course, he wished he could blame his hate and anger onto someone! Of course, he wanted revenge! Of course … But if their mother died, it was not upon Albion's head._

_It was Rome's fault._

_If only the bastard hadn't mysteriously disappeared, Alba would already have killed him right here, right now. But he would not blame Alys for their misfortune. Not when he wasn't even able to protect her from the Roman bastard._

"… _Do what you want." Eir snapped and walked out of the hut._

* * *

The blonde woke up, blinking sharply at the sudden rays of sunshine breaking through the closed curtains of the room. Chuckling at the sight of Alistair's sleeping face on her lap, she let her slender fingers caress his cheek. It was slightly rough. He needs shaving. He had stayed by her side all night. As usual. He always stays by her side until her ordeal is over. Every year without fail. Tonight he even transferred her back to Kamaaloth. He must be exhausted. Pressing her ruby lips against the ruby hair of her brother she kissed him lightly with a soft whisper.

"Thanks Al."

Moving carefully and slowly, she made sure that her body responded to her. Like always she felt a bit stiff and numb at first but she quickly regained full control of herself and slid out of her bed. She stayed careful not to disturb her sleeping brother and pulled a blanket over him. She avoided tripping on the sleeping lion at the foot of her bed and headed for the shower.

Once she was done cleaning and familiarising herself with her new body, she walked back in her room, towel around her waist (habits die hard but since nobody's around to see her naked, it's fine) and searched for clothes. Not any clothes. She unlocked a specific drawer, one she only uses once a year, and drew out smaller sized clothes and underwear garments. She sighed as she stared at the black lacy bra. Great. She had forgotten that last time North had the bright idea of breaking into her draw and switching her normal bra with that thing. Well, she didn't have much of a choice, did she? Groaning in annoyance, she slid on the bra and the lacy black underwear that went with it. It reminded her last year and not a pleasant experience at all!

"I swear when you get back, I'm going to kill you Fiona." She cursed of embarrassment as she stared at her reflection in the large mirror of her room. Thank God, Al was still asleep. He would have teased her to no end about this!

The rest of her clothes (out of her normal wardrobe this time) were just some baggy jeans slightly ripped off here and there, a large T-shirt meant for a man but she didn't care, with a crowned skull on the front and the words "Keep Calm and Drink Tea!" on the back. A large belt held her baggy trousers firmly around her slim waist. She looked around for some smaller sized shoes. She was sure to have kept a pair of boots somewhere … Oh fuck you North! The angry emeralds glared at the high heels that had been swapped with her average flat heeled boots. How the fuck does she expect her to walk in _that_?!

"Correction: I might not wait until you come home and hunt you down now instead."

Ignoring the heels, she opted for her trainers, despite them being slightly too big for her smaller feet. She arranged her short hair slightly and was glad not to have too much work to do with that. She didn't understand how Fiona or the other girls managed with such long hair! It was a pain to take care of! And she knew since she used to be the one to help North with her hair when they were young! Smiling softly at the memory, the blond wouldn't ever say that she had actually enjoyed taking care of her younger sister and helping her out in all those _feminine_ tasks. Things she learnt with her sister as she never got a chance to experience it on herself.

A soft grunt interrupted her thoughts and she shot a cautious stare at her brother. He hadn't woken up. Good. Smiling at him, she turned back to the mirror and for the first time today, looked _carefully_ at herself. Not much change since a year ago. She remembered the times when she was still growing as a person and each time, her breast would increase in size. That had been a pain. Looks like she hadn't taken on much weight either and her muscles were still firm but not too prominent. Overall … healthy and normal. Right. Health checked. Now onto breakfast … Bunny should have dealt with it by now.

* * *

"Ugh … what just happened?"

"America! Get off me bastard!"

"Uh? Prussia, dude, what are you doing under me?"

"The question is what are _you_ doing on top of the awesome _me_?!"

"Bruder, America stop this argument now! Italy! Please stop pulling on my arm!"

"Ve? That's your arm, Ludwig? Oh! Scusa mi!"

"Chigi! Bastardo! Let go!"

"Oh! Lovi! It was you that was on me?"

"Oh là là … What happened? Why does the beautiful me feel like he's being crushed by some invisible force?"

"O-oh! S-sorry, France …"

"Canadia! Dude! Since when have you been here?"

"WILL YOU MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS OFF ME, ARSCHLOCH!"

"Aiya! What is going on? Why is it so dark in here? I can't see anything!"

"China-san? Is that you? What is …"

"Kol kol kol! Little Japan wants to be one with Russia~?"

"NO! Forgive me! I apologise for my clumsiness! Please! I don't want to become one with Russia-san!"

"What … happened?"  
"Ve! Greece just woke up!"

"Che! You mean the bastard slept through all that?!"

"WILL ALL OF YOU SHUT UP?!"

Everybody silenced as they heard the angry exasperated tone of the blond German.

"Let's just try to see where we are and how we get out of here. Then we'll sort out what happened." He sighed as Ludwig felt a massive headache rising. Looking around he noticed that he couldn't even see Italy whom he knew to be sitting on top of him. The place felt cramped and full of other objects or furniture … it was dark and they were on a stone ground floor. That was all the information he could gather right now.

"Can anyone see if there's a light or an exit nearby?"

He was answered by a series of shouts and struggles as the nations tried to untangle themselves from one another. Forget about the light. They couldn't even move without bumping or tripping each other.

"Che! How did we fucking end up in that fucking situation anyway?!"

"Eh? Wasn't that your fault, Lovi?"

"How the fuck was it my fault, Tomato bastard?!"

"Well, wasn't it that weird wardrobe you found that swallowed us?"

"First up, Feli was the one to find that fucking wardrobe and second, it was the Hamburger bastard who activated it!"

"Hey! All I did was just look inside it a little!"

"You must have pressed on some weird button or something aru …"

"That is all very interesting, Da? But how did we end up here? I can't remember anything after the wardrobe. The next thing I know, we all wake up in this lovely place."

"Russia's right. We need to find out where we are before thinking of anything else …" Ludwig was suddenly interrupted as they all heard a sudden giggling sound. The nations all froze in fear and listened to the sadistic playful laughter.

"F-France! Don't fucking play with us, bastard!"

"Eh? It wasn't me, Romano. I thought it was Prussia."

"The awesome me doesn't laugh in such an unawesome way!"

"Then who was it if it wasn't one of us, amigo?"

"Must have been Russia!"

"Nyet. It wasn't me America."

"VE! I'm scared! Where are we?! Geeeermaaanyyyy!"

"Italy! Calm down! Stop clinging to me like that! Gah! I can't even see you! Aouch! Stop it! Don't stab my eyes with your fingers!"

"Veee S-sorry but … but … but …"

"My my … so you can finally hear us, can't you~?" a chiming voice purred darkly before more giggling rose up. Now everyone was terrified. An enemy you cannot see is always the most dangerous.

"W-who are you? Show yourself!" Ludwig yelled only causing another fit of laughter to emanate around them. He could discern more than one voice. In fact he was certain that there was maybe a small group of people laughing … but how could this be when they couldn't feel any other presence than themselves?

"Show ourselves?"

"We've already shown ourselves to you lot countless times before. You just didn't bother seeing us. Not even that Canadian nation who suffers the same trial as us of being left ignored and forgotten."

"But not everyone forgot us!"

"The masters never abandoned us!"

"Who are your masters?" Germany asked as he tried to locate the voices but they kept changing places constantly. Unless those people could fly or teleport themselves …

"Shall we tell them?"

"Best not. We should warn master about his unwanted visitors first."

"But today really isn't a good day for visitors."

"Should we deal with them, then?"

"I say we just erase their memories and drop them in the sea with chains and weights."

"… Pirates." Spain mumbled as he was suddenly reminded of the similar threats he used to face from a certain English nation. Only a giggle replied him.

"I think that's a great idea!"

"I disagree. Master won't be happy if we harm them."

"But we can't leave them here!"

"Let's send them back."

"How did they even get here?"

"Who knows? Maybe they snooped around Master's other home?"

Ludwig focused on that last part. _Other home_. Was the master they're talking about … England?

"Veee … Germany … I'm scared …" Veneziano mumbled as he tried to retreat.

* * *

Alistair woke up from the sudden scream.

"Aly!" he called as he rushed out of the room and searched the manor. He froze as he saw her unconscious body lying in front of the open door of the cellar. He picked her up and looking inside, he groaned in fury before shutting the door.

He carried his precious sister back to her room and tucked her in her bed. The soft growl at the foot of the bed made him look down. He smirked.

"Keep her safe."

He knew he didn't have to tell the cat this. It will protect her no matter what.

Scotland walked back out of the room and growled as he reached for his mobile.

"Ello?" the yawning voice of his Welsh brother answered. William had probably spent all night buried in old books to solve their _Unwanted Living Dead_ issue.

"Houston, we have a problem."

* * *

_Upon his way out, Eir noticed the waiting presence of those Germans. His emeralds glared threateningly at the waiting couple before he stormed away._

_William wore a conflicted expression but he soon lost all emotion on his face. His usually emotional face was now a cold wall of ice as he looked at his sister one last time and at his brother for the first time. His eyes trailed up to meet the identical emeralds of his older sibling._

"_Who is he?"_

"_I don't know yet."_

"_Anglaland." The foreign voice spoke with a strong German accent._

_The two Brits snapped their heads up and Scotland glared angrily at the couple in their doorway. One was a man with long brown hair and cold blue eyes identical to Germania's. The other was a woman, tall and strong despite her attractive feminine figure, with blond hair tied back into a long braid reaching to her waist, she had the most unusual purple eyes Alistair had ever seen. The woman approached them, her eyes fell on the unconscious nation. Her cold expression so similar to Germania's seemed to soften at the sight of the blond unconscious boy. On her tail, like a body guard, the man harboured a smirk of satisfaction and showed excitement as he too looked down at the boy in Alistair's arms._

_William backed away in sudden fear and wary, he small size despite already looking like a 15 year old, paled in comparison to the taller than tall Germans. Their broad bodies and thick muscles under heavy armours was enough to make the Welsh boy feel insecure. But the Scotsman, now looking in his 18, was far from impressed or intimidated. He growled threateningly at them, daring them to step closer with a promise of death._

"_What are you still doing hanging around our land?" Alistair hissed, protectively shielding his sister/brother in his arms._

"_We came for Albion. Upon request of our father …"_

"_Albion is dead."_

_The words felt like a cold shower over every ear in the room. The brown haired German frowned, slowly losing his patience. He stepped forward, towering Alba and glaring icy blue eyes upon the equally glaring Alistair._

"_He will be if he remains with you crazy people! Hand him over! We heard you call him Albion so don't try telling us that he's dead! Do you have any idea how worried Father is?!"_

"_He's not our father. Why should we care?"_

"_He's Albion's father!" The man screamed but the calming hand on his shoulder silenced him._

"_Calm yourself Saxony." The woman turned to the Scot. "Please. Let us take him. We've been searching for him ever since Rome died …"_

"_Can you confirm this?" Alba interrupted her sharply. The girl looked surprised at the heated glare the Briton was sending her, challenging her words and daring her to repeat them._

"_Yes. Although his body wasn't found, we are almost certain that he burned down with his Empire. Your brother was one to help in this."_

_If Alistair was surprised, he showed none of it. Instead, his grip tightened around his brother's frail body. William was flicking his gaze back and forth from Alba to the Germanic woman._

"_And aside from bringing me the news that I will not get the pleasure to murder Rome myself … what did you want?" Alistair's condescending voice snapped a cord in Saxony who growled in fury._

"_We came to retrieve our blood!"_

"_Albion is part of the British Isles. He is not German. Or Roman. Or anything else." Alba's emerald eyes started to glow threateningly and the blond woman quickly understood the danger. While they were still on British soil, Alba's powers would be increased and she was well informed of how powerful the mages of the Isles could be. Neither she nor Saxony held knowledge of magic and she wasn't here to start a war._

"_Please … Alba, was it?"_

_The red-hair grunted._

"_Who's asking?"_

"_I am Angles … I am Albion's sister."_

"_The only sister Albion has is Irish."_

"_Please, Alba, you should understand … Our father was devastated. He thought Albion had died in the fire since … since we couldn't find him."_

"… _You claim to be his sister but what exactly do you know about Albion?" Alistair huffed, already aware that those Germans knew next to nothing about Alys._

"_I admit we never met until now. Germania isn't one to talk much and your mother kept you all in her land. All I know … is that my father was crying. Germania never cries. He spoke words that made no sense to us. Saxony and I took it upon ourselves to search for Albion in case …"_

"_In case he was still alive." William breathed out in disbelief._

_When Albion had returned to the Isles, she never spoke a word of her time in Rome. Never explained why she returned or how she escaped. She never even acknowledged her brothers, keeping a cold and distant tone towards them. She looked … like an entirely new person. Someone that Cymru had never met. And that he wasn't sure he wanted to meet either._

"_And he is. So we'll be taking him now. You will clearly kill him if he remains any longer with you!" Saxony growled as he grabbed one of Albion's pending arms, under the warning growls of Alba._

"_Over my dead body." The red-hair stated, a blue aura growing around him. Angles was quick to intervene, not wishing to bring about conflict between their two families._

"_Let us take him. Weak as you are, can you protect him? Can you even accept his return? I've seen enough of your ginger brother to understand how conflicted you all are …"_

"_That eejit may be conflicted but I'm not. You know nothing of Albion and you claim you hold more rights than me to be called his sibling? Do you think I would give him up when I just got him back from the Roman bastard? You must be bloody joking!"_

"… _Then let us stay. Let us bring Germania over to see him."_

"_What?!" William shouted in panic. Allowing someone to enter your land is almost inviting them to invade you. You'd never consider such a thing. But the oddest thing followed:_

"… _Aye. I'll let you stay."_

_All three nations stared in shock and disbelief at the Scotsman, even Angles was surprised and not expecting him to agree. The young red-haired smirked maliciously._

"_As long as Albion allows you to stay then I won't interfere. It's his land. Just don't you dare step foot on mine!"_

"_Alba!" Cymru shouted indignantly. He didn't understand where his brother was going with all this._

"_Thank you. That is really kind of you …"_

"_Enough. Leave before I change my mind." Alba snapped and Saxony looked about to argue but was silently pulled away by Angles. The girl shot a look at her blond British relative and smiled softly._

"_His name …?"_

_Alba looked down at his unconscious brother's face. No emotion crossing his features but when he answered his voice was soft and fond._

"_Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."_

* * *

Alys glanced around with a daze look at her surroundings. She was in her room … but could see no sign of Alistair. Sleeping in her arms by her side was Peter's small figure. The boy, worried, had joined her to keep her safe. She smiled softly, hugged him tighter and fell back to sleep, reminiscing in dangerous memories.

* * *

**AN: ... ... Not satisfied. I keep trying to change this chapter but this is the best I managed. I'm still not convinced but ... Oh well, whatever! Hope it's to your liking!**


	9. Spilled tea and forgotten dreams

**Chap 8: Spilled tea and forgotten dreams**

_The doors fell shut._

_Her Majesty the Queen of England sighed, refraining from running a frustrated hand in her neatly arranged ginger hair. Her face looked tired and dark marks circled under her dulled grey eyes. She smoothed her red dress, hoping to not have to regret her decision._

_If it meant a war with Spain, then so be it._

_Elisabeth let out a sigh of relief … or was it anticipation? She didn't care by now. The fatigue was too great on her. But her sharp mind still buzzed despite her headache. She would not be as weak as her sister Mary was. She would not betray her people. She would not allow ANYONE to claim her precious country ever again. Not while she lives and breathes._

"_You should rest, My Lady." A soft caring deep voice spoke from a far end of the throne room._

_Elisabeth looked up, her iron eyes meeting the vibrant emerald ones. She smiled. Something she rarely shows others but always did when alone with this man. She smiled._

"_Says the man who is barely holding on his two feet."_

_She heard him chuckle. But there was no amusement in his voice. No genuine carefreeness. No laughter. It was a dry empty chuckle. Like always._

_She had never heard him laugh from his heart._

_Ever._

"_A child like yourself shouldn't concern herself in my well-being. I am yours to use as you may please, after all, My Queen." The man's face remained shadowed and Elisabeth could only discern the mess of gold on his head._

"_Even a child such as myself can see through your façade. Are you … regretting your decision?"_

_He didn't answer._

"_England?" her voice was concerned. She didn't want this man to hate her. Out of all the men in the world, he is the only one she would not wish to be hated from._

"_I never regret. Do not concern yourself. All my actions … I make clear choices and would never regret any of my decisions." His voice was cold, harsh, and serious. Void of any emotion._

_The Queen slowly lifted herself up and walked down to the man's level. She approached him with slow and meaningful steps, almost afraid that if she walked too fast, he would disappear, like a cat running away from a stranger. She saw his body stiffen. En garde. Like always._

_Not once has she ever seen him lower his guard._

_Even before her._

_She lay a hand on his shoulder, leaning her smaller frame against his straight standing figure. He was staring out the window. But there was nothing to see. Of course not. It didn't matter, since his green eyes weren't looking for anything. They were clouded in a mist of daydream and memory. He never bothered to turn away and look at her._

"_If so … why is it that I can hear your heart cry in such agony?"_

"_My heart … … what heart?" The man smiled._

_A dead smile._

"_England … If you wished otherwise … why didn't you stop me?"_

"_Stop you from what, My Queen?"_

"… _You did not wish the Queen of Scots' assassination." She whispered. It was a statement. She didn't need him to confirm this because she already knew that England was mulling over his fight with Scotland._

_She had never met Scotland. She wasn't even sure if she wished to meet him of not. If she ever did, she would apologise. But she could not regret her decision._

_She never regretted her choices._

"_If I had wished to voice my opposition, I would have. Haven't I already told you?"_

_Neither did England._

_She smiled, amused by how similar her way of thinking was to Arthur's. Or should she say … Alice?_

_Indeed, out of all the royals, all the people, throughout History, Elisabeth is the first ruler of England to have been told such a huge secret. Why? Even she did not know. But her determination to protect her nation only grew from such knowledge._

"_You have. I apologise." Elisabeth smiled, leaning her head against her nation's shoulder._

"_You have no reason to apologise to the likes of me. My existence is to serve you. My life is yours to see fit." Arthur shook his head. A nation is the heart of the people. The people obey their Queen. So would he._

"_You are wrong again, Arthur. It is my existence that belongs to you. I am your leader. As such, my duty is to protect you. Protect my people. My life is in your hands."_

"… _Too many big words for such a child." Arthur only sighed._

_Elisabeth felt her face warm up and only nodded._

"_Indeed. To you, I am only a mere child. And to me, you are but a god I was blessed enough to cross eyes with." Elisabeth tightened her grip around the man's arm._

_Arthur did not answer. Still staring out the window dully._

"_I, Queen of England, with all the power that I hold in those hands of a child, cannot begin to bring a smile on your beautiful face. Arthur … I only wish …"_

_She felt him remove his arm out of her grip. She caught a glimpse of marking above his wrist but he pulled on his sleeve, hiding the evidence away. His stoic face turned to finally look at the young queen. He smiled at her. Kind. But not happy._

_She watched him bow in respect and leave the room._

_The doors fell shut._

_In the empty throne room, the greatest queen of England felt a tear roll down her face._

"_Unfair." She could only whisper._

* * *

Queen Elisabeth the First of England looked down at the group of nations struggling in the pitch-black darkness of the cellar. Floating across from her was the silver figure of Jeanne, looking just as surprised as she was, but not as angry. And there was plenty to be angry about.

Of all the days … why did those fools have to show up again?

"OH MY GOD A GHOST!" America screamed, freaking out.

Oh yeah. England had mentioned that the lad had a panic fear of the supernatural. Especially ghosts.

Well, not like she cared.

"La reina virgen …" Spain whispered in a breath.

He had said those exact same words the last time too. Pity he didn't remember.

Or maybe not.

It'd be troublesome if those meddling nations did remember.

Scotland would not be pleased and England would be in trouble.

"After we finally got rid of them … they just had to come back!" The crimson queen mumbled to herself.

* * *

_The first time she met this man … she thought that she was facing the devil._

_He charged at the battlefield, along with his men, smile spreading on his face. Not a happy smile. Just one filled with excitement and adrenaline. Not happiness. His silver armour shone under the sun but paled in comparison to the golden aspect of his hair. His green eyes darted from left to right, following the movement of his spear as he killed dozens upon dozens of her men. His strength was phenomenal. Well, that is to be expected. After all … this man is not human._

_But he did look like a demon._

_How could this person be similar to her dearest France? They are nothing alike! France is kind and gentle. He fights with honour and imposes respect. But this man … is just barbaric! He revels in blood, he lusts for fights, he laughs at death. He cannot be kind or gentle. He cannot be honourable or respectable. He is just a monster._

_And should die as one._

…

_Shouldn't he?_

…

_The second time she met this man … she thought that she was facing an angel._

_Night had fallen over the battlefield. After a day of carnage, both sides had retreated for a well-deserved rest, knowing that the next day would only see today repeat itself. That night, Jeanne should never have gotten out of her tent. She would normally, like any other night, sleep and rest her tired body. Her wound in her abdomen was painful but with rest, it should ease._

_So why did she get up? Because she heard voices._

_Francis had always smiled and praised her of her gift. Calling it the will of god and saying that she could hear angels. Well … they had wings but they were not angels._

_Jeanne looked up in the sky and watched a couple of fairies fly off in the direction of the deserted battlefield. She followed them discreetly, curious about their presence here. Fairies never show or intervene in human warring. A battlefield covered in corpses is the last place those forest creature would go to. So why were they here?_

_Jeanne's blue eyes fell with shock and bemusement on the figure standing alone among the sea of corpses. A soft song reached her ear. It was sad and painful but so beautiful she could not stop herself from listening. She didn't need to understand the words. It was so plainly and painfully obvious that words were not needed to translate the melodic sad song. Minutes turned into hours and Jeanne just stood there, on the opposite side of that angel, listening to his tortured soul._

_He was the same man … right?_

_He looked the same. Golden hair blown gently in the midnight wind, green eyes of an emerald deeper than the sea, milky skin glowing under the soft rays of the moon, his silver armour now was of a perfect crimson and you wouldn't believe it was originally not blood-tainted. He was only wearing the torso of his armour, barely enough to protect himself should he be attacked. Is he insane? A warrior would never take such a risk!_

_But … is this singing sad man really the same blood-thirsty warrior she had met earlier?_

_The angel stopped singing and turned to the whispering fairies. The gesture surprised Jeanne. She didn't think anyone else could see them. A soft happy feeling spread through her from the knowledge that she is not the only crazy one. Even if this man is her enemy._

_Emeralds flash towards her, serious face turned into a cocky smirk._

_Jeanne felt her face blush and wonders whether she'll need to fight him or not._

_He walks back to his own camp, without a word._

_He didn't need to._

_The look in his eyes was plenty to cover the lack of wording. Jeanne felt her knees drop and she stared aghast at the empty field of blood and human flesh. Of all the people … of all the enemies she could have … why did this man have to be France's enemy? The first person she met able to see what none others can. The first person she feels pained to fight tomorrow. If only he had remained simply a monster of war in her mind … if only she hadn't seen the angel crying at night … if only tears could stop falling from her eyes._

"_Unfair." She whispered in a breath._

* * *

Jeanne d'Arc, the French Maiden, was used to the strange and the bizarre, thanks to Arthur. But the strangest thing yet had happened now. Fairies warning her and dragging her to the cellar only to find the last people you would expect to see … again. Lizzie was already there, looking shocked and furious. Well, of course she would be. After all, this is not a good day to have visitors. The last time had been so chaotic and nearly threatened Alice's secret.

Plus this time … Alistair is around.

He is not going to be happy.

At all.

"OH MY GOD A GHOST!" The little American screamed in a panic.

Jeanne let out an amused laugh as all the nations stared up in shock at the two floating figures above them, paling significantly upon seeing them. Spain muttered something with wide eyes locked on Lizzie. But Jeanne had no eyes for anyone aside from her past love. Francis looked afraid, disbelief in his eyes, like he feared that she were a mere illusion.

Well, he's not half wrong. She is only a ghost after all.

Her blue eyes bore into his own blues and she could only smile in apology.

She would not fight for him anymore.

She would not faithfully stand by his side anymore.

She would not give her life in his name anymore.

She wouldn't and couldn't.

"After we finally got rid of them … they just had to come back!" Lizzie muttered and Jeanne turned to her English friend.

"You are being unfair to us, nations of the world." The white lady sighed, only feeling wonder as of what Arthur would do to sort this out.

Talking of Arthur …

* * *

Arthur … uh, Alice walked down the disappearing staircase, his feet not bothered by the empty space they floated on. He walked into the kitchen, passing the two guarding statues in the hall of the manor-castle-whatever you wish to call it. He glanced at the ginger green-eyed woman warrior, then at the brunet blue-eyed cloaked mage. Those were only replicas of the originals. Those would not answer back if he spoke to them.

Arthur shook his head, feeling nostalgic and hating it. He blew away the memories of his past as quickly as it had come to mind. It was always the case … whenever he returned to be Albion, he would feel all those thoughts and memories resurge and trouble him. He hated it. He felt weak. The quicker he can turn back to England, the better.

On his way to the kitchen, Arthur heard some noise and arguing down in the cellar. Odd. Had some pixies decided to mess things up down there? He hoped not. He didn't want to have to get angry this early in the morning. And he didn't want to wake up Alistair.

Oh yeah … Arthur shook his head, remembering that he shouldn't be referring to himself as a '_he'_ but as a '_she'_ now that he's … well, Alice.

Alice sighed before opening the door, emeralds wide and eager in curiosity.

* * *

The tea cup fell off the table and crashed to the ground spilling its brown content over the red carpeted floor. The man looked up at the sound and finally seemed to snap out of his musing and poem-writing. He looked around his room but saw nothing disturbed. His brown eyes fell on the broken cup on the floor and he gently leaned over to pick it up. His blue top-hate tilted slightly on his brown head. His favourite book lay innocently on the corner of his desk: Alice in Wonderland.

"**Why is a raven like a writing desk?**" The man chuckled to himself, tilting the piece of broken tea-cup in between his two fingers.

As he carefully placed down on the desk next to the book, the man lifted his head up, listening to the noisy silence of the room.

"**I wonder if I've been changed in the night. Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is **_**'Who in the world am I?'**_** Ah, that's the great puzzle!**" The man once again dropped his head and returned to his endless scribbles on a sheet of paper that seemed to never be satisfied no matter how many poem and plays he filled it with.

"If I weren't mad, would I be surprised to see you all return?" The man chuckled as he listened to Alice's loud scream.

What a joy! Visitors!

* * *

_William Shakespeare woke up._

_Uh._

_Wasn't he dead?_

_A womanly figure stood before him, looking down on the man with eyes of a green that William had never seen before. Yet he knew that person. He had never met her but he knew her. A smile cornered his lips, amused by his own crazy thought. Maybe the doctors were right to say that he was crazy. After all, he was dead and now he is not. How crazier can you get?_

"_Am I mad? Or is this a dream?" the man asked, not bothering asking about his death._

_The woman tilted her golden blond head. Short hair. How unusual._

"_**You would have to be half mad to dream me up.**__" She answers._

_That day, he hadn't realised that she was speaking words of a book that hadn't existed yet. But for this woman, time is only a game. Life is only a game. There isn't a single thing that isn't a game to her. She bows over and hands him a blank paged book._

"_**What is the use of a book, without pictures and conversations?**__" The confused man asked as he pealed through the blank pages of the thick book._

"_Why should there be a purpose for existence? But if it's a meaning you wish for, then you can always give it one." She smiles and walks away._

_He thinks. Then decides that thinking was long overdue. He jumped to his feet and followed the woman he knew so well and yet couldn't name._

"_I was dead." He speaks, following her and staring at her back._

"_Yes, indeed you were." She answers._

"_**Have I gone mad?**__"_

"_**Yes, I'm afraid so. But let me tell you something, the best people usually are.**__"_

"… _Who are you? And … who am I?"_

"_Indeed. Isn't that a fun puzzle?" The woman smirked as she answered him in her usual mysterious words._

_He nods and a frown deepens his face. Suddenly he is face with a large castle-like mansion out of nowhere. The woman walks up to it and turns with a mysterious smile to the man._

"_**Why is a raven like a writing desk?**__" She asked him, teasing as always._

_As always? But he didn't know this woman. How can it be always?_

"_**Have you guessed the riddle yet?**__" She inquired after a moment. He shook his head._

"_**No. I give it up. What's the answer?**__"_

"_**I haven't the slightest idea!**__" She laughs and walks through the elephant sized doors and into the castle._

_William is left alone to choose whether he would walk through those doors or walk away. He could return to his past life. He could forget ever having met this woman. He could pretend this madness is all but a dream. In fact, not once had she told him otherwise. This could very well be a dream._

"_**I can't go back to yesterday … because I was a different person then.**__" He hears himself chuckle and, clenching his blank book, he walked through those doors._

* * *

The man scribbled another line in his blank book. No matter how many words, how many pages he drowns in ink, the book seemed endless. Shakespeare flipped the page and once more was faced with a blank sheet awaiting for his thoughts.

A filled warm tea-cup was neatly placed on his round desk table that really-actually looked like a tea-table. On the corner or the round table, because here even circles have corners, the book _Alice in Wonderland_ still lay there, its cover worn out by the ages.

The man's dark eyes darted away from his writing and turned to the shut door of his office-tea room. He listened to the very loud silence. Trouble would soon be coming. Or had it arrived already? Alice would not be pleased.

He had learned of her name.

But that didn't mean anything.

A name is only but a word.

And a word is lie humans use to speak the truth.

"Unfair." He whispers with a chuckle.

* * *

**AN: Those who have noticed: Well done! Those who haven't: The Bold writing in Shakespeare's part is quoting from Alice in Wonderland. I thought it fitted the story and it was fun to make allusion to this book since that is the main inspiration for this story. I'm not saying I'm copying Alice in Wonderland (I'm not) but I inserted a few references to it in Door on Time and the previous Land of Legends and Secrets. Hope you all still enjoy this fic and thank you for your reviews.**


	10. Hell in the Attic

**Chap 9: Hell in the Attic**

_I died._

_Years …_

_Decades …_

_Centuries …_

_Millennia …_

_How long has it been since I died? How long has it been since I was torn from the skies and dragged back to Earth? – And I don't mean Heaven, I know I hold no place in whatever possible heaven there may be, no place ever – How long has it been since I saw my brother for the last time? And also for the first time?_

_Alice Kirkland wandered the empty castle for the very first time. It was infinite and timeless. The perfect place to hide from the world. The perfect place to hide from yourself. The perfect place to lose your mind._

_She glanced at the boring walls and frowned. She'd have to bring some colour to these stone walls. Maybe a few paintings? Her feet tapped lightly on the cold stone ground. And a carpet. Red. She liked red. Red was her favourite colour. Crimson red. Blood red. The first colour to arise from her memory and the one she was constantly followed with through her life. Yes, a red carpet would be nice. Her green eyes trailed on the identical wooden doors, lined up in infinite corridors. All those rooms … she'd need to give a purpose to each of them. A maybe give some originality to the doors. All those lines of perfect boring identical doors were making her sick. She jumped down the staircase. It was spiralling down. You had no idea where it started nor where it ended. But that was just … boring. Maybe she'd make it move around? Alice chuckled at the thought of a moving staircase, talking doors, red purring carpets, and chitchatty paintings. It would be fun. It would keep her busy. It would keep boredom away._

_They say boredom is man's worse enemy. How rightly so._

_The childish figure of the little girl skipping down the stairs suddenly froze as she landed in the hall in front of a boring looking blue door. A blue door specifically created by herself and her brothers. Why? To keep what's inside it locked away. Honestly, it would be troublesome if someone were to open this door. Maybe she should put a lock on it, just in case._

_Alice nodded at the thought, deciding that the first things on her list would be to find an unbreakable lock for this door. Otherwise, what would be the point of her life? She unconsciously touched the Celtic seal running down her arm, tracing the intricate design on her shoulder. What would be the point of it all …?_

"_I am dead." Alice reminded herself like she always does._

_Looking out the window, she watched as the sun barely seeped through the sea of clouds. It would not rain. But it would not shine. Just a slow boring day. Days. Day. Days. Or day. Alice shook her head. If it were as simple as counting days off a calendar, she wouldn't need to be in this castle. If time made any sense, she wouldn't be able to maintain her existence. If her brother hadn't been there …_

_Alice smiled sadly._

_She was causing him trouble again._

_And again._

_Like always._

"_Unfair." She sighed._

_Indeed. Life is unfair._

* * *

"Damn … my head … uh … feels weird …"

"Brother! Ah no, sorry! I meant, Sister!"

The blond woman blinked one of her eyes open and met the worried emeralds of her ginger haired sister. She smiled at the younger nation and pulled her in a hug. Fiona giggled and hugged her sister back wholeheartedly. In the midst of it all, Peter rolled to the side, groaning in his sleep but not waking up.

"Did you cause another mess at Pat's place, again?" The older sibling sighed as she released the younger one and sat upright on her bed.

"Yeah! Total success! Except the murder part but the wrecking up his house part was perfect, if I do say so myself!" Fiona cheered happily.

"Dear me … what will I do with you, cheeky monkey?"

"Aw! You know you love me too much~ I'm you wonderful little sister, aren't I?"

"Nah, I'm still betting you were adopted!" The blonde chuckled as an amused smile played her lips. She frowned slightly as she took notice that she was back in her bed. Strange she was sure to have gone downstairs to make breakfast and then … she heard voices and noises coming from the cellar … there was this light and … uh. Did she black out? That never happened before. Occasional morning sickness, yes, heavy body, yes, killing headache, yes but never did she faint the day after her _change_.

"Sister?"

"Princess, what happened? I'm sure I was upstairs checking the cellar and a now …" She interrupted herself as she noticed the distinct change on Fiona's expression. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously on the nervous averted eyes of the younger one.

"N-nothing. Al and the guys are dealing with it. You should just rest."

"Al and the guys? You mean Ireland too? Patrick came too? And you two are not killing each other? Princess, tell me what's going on!"

"It's nothing! I told you, Al's dealing with it now and …"

"Tell me."

Fiona cringed under the imposing imperial tone of her sister. She sheepishly looked away and mumbled in a soft breath.

"Other nations broke into the house last night. I don't know the details but Alistair found you and them all unconscious in the cellar."

The blonde jumped out of bed and ignored the loud calls of her sister. If her brothers were all together and dealing with those fucking wankers, there is no telling what they might do to the poor lads! Especially if gits like America are there! They will only cause her brothers' fury.

"Fuck! How did those idiots find our house anyway?! What's the point of having a dimensional bridge to seal off the house if they can pop in whenever they please?!" She cursed as she ran down the stairs bare feet. "And they had to bloody turn up today of all fucking days! At least they don't remember last time … I hope!"

* * *

"I say we kill them."

"We can't do that. They are nations, fucking stupid ones but still. How would you explain that to the rest of the world? And it's a lot of work to kill a nation."

"I don't want to go to war for such a stupid reason either."

"Right, because you'd definitely go to war to defend the UK, wouldn't you, _Ireland_?"

"William, don't start. Patrick, don't answer back."

"Who made _you_ in charge, haggis boy?"

"Me, I and Myself. Got a problem with that?"

"I don't mean to interrupt your bonding moment, guys, but what do we do with them?" Wales rolled his eyes before narrowing his dark angry gaze on the awakening nations.

"They're waking up?"

"Looks like it."

"Good … Let's get cracking." Scotland's grim face was all but comforting as he cracked his knuckles.

Feliciano blinked his chocolate eyes open and nearly had a heart-attack. Staring down on him and the others, three pairs of evil emerald eyes were glowing in furious rage with a promise of agony and death. Feliciano recognised the tall crimson haired man in the middle instantly. This was Scotland. The man that had showed up a year ago when England had fallen ill. On his right, the copper-brown haired one, short but with a bulky body and burn marks running down his arms. Feliciano knew him as Wales. He often would come and represent the UK on meetings when England was unavailable. And the one on the right, Ireland was not part of the UK and hence is as frequently present to meetings as England is but Feliciano never talked to him before. The shortest of them all but also the oldest, he has bright ginger long hair tied back in a ponytail with a few braids on the sides, a scar ran down the side of his face next to his left eye.

All three had those typical thick eyebrows complimenting their typical emerald eyes.

And they were glaring.

Scary.

* * *

"AH! You're that … that … … Who're you?" American shouted with wide eyes and pointing accusingly at Scotland.

They had all been gathered in a large empty room, the stone walls around them were stripped of any potential decorum, cold and merciless. The stone floor was a little bit wet and uncomfortable. No windows. They were probably underground. The only light came from floating candles in mid-air. Nations slowly woke up, groaning and cursing, before suddenly silencing as they noticed the angry watchful emerald eyes settled on them. Well … everyone except America.

The Scot's grim face twitched into a cornered smirk that made him look even scarier. He looked about to go crazy … or maybe he already was? It wouldn't be surprising.

"Loud and rude. You're sure you were brought up by England?"

"England? You know England! Where is he? Is he here?"

"Scotty, stop chatting with them. The quicker we solve this, the better." William Kirkland warned his brother, his eyes never leaving the intruding nations.

How did they get in? Something told him that this wasn't the first time. And he still had a score to settle with the bastard that had harmed one of his dragons the last time. There will be blood.

"Aye! Aye! I know, lad! So, what's the plan? Kill'em?"

"You want to have to explain to England that you eradicated half of Europe, parts of Asia and the whole North American continent?" Patrick asked with an eager grin. He clearly had no problem in executing the plan.

"I'd go for agonising torture." William opted with a thrill in his voice and his frown deepening.

"I'm cool with that but I don't want any of them to go whining to England afterwards." Scotland frowned, in deep thought, almost as if he was discussing holiday plans for the summer.

"We can always erase their memories." The Irishman shrugged, already fixed on the 'torture plan'.

"I'm not confident that I can only erase _part_ of their memories." Wales spoke and he probably was lying but you couldn't tell from the even tone of his voice.

"That's fine! We'll just wipe them clean!" Patrick waved a dismissive hand.

"So it's settled!" Alistair grinned widely.

"H-hey dude … what are you guys talking about?" Alfred felt a shiver of anticipated fear run down his spine. He did not like the way the three Britons were so lightly discussing "death", "torture" and "memory wipe out". All he wanted originally was to find England and discuss … uh. What did he want to discuss?

"Wait! Alistair, I need to speak with Arthur! It's urgent!" The quiet Canada suddenly spoke … but you wouldn't have guessed it was him because he sounded all but quiet and shy.

Scotland's gaze narrowed on the determined face of the Canadian. He seemed to ponder on whether to punch the lad or listen to him and _then_ punch him anyway. Canada, sweet nice Canada, was fiercely glaring at the red-haired Scot. He was not hateful of his first coloniser. Not at all. But he constantly got into arguments with him, and it was the reason why Scotland's attempt to colonise Canada resulted in discord and conflicts (before France took over).

"Arthur's not available. Anything you wish to communicate to him will have to go through me." Came the cold reply of the older man, glaring back at Matthew.

"Why? Why's he not available?" Alfred once again asked and once again went ignored.

"Alfred and I organised a world conference a couple of days ago …" Matthew attempted to explain, knowing that there is no way to get past Scotland's stubbornness.

"There was no meeting." Ireland interrupted with a warning tone.

"Yeah, there was! I made one! I got everyone to New York and …"

Scotland lifted a silencing hand to calm both his brothers and America. Patrick and Alfred glared at one another but said no more under the warning green eyes of Alistair. This after all, is his land. He is in charge. Wales sighed and pulled out his pipe from his pocket, lightening it up as if he had nothing better to do. Which he didn't. Scotland turned a suddenly attentive expression to Canada and spoke in a strong imposing voice.

"**Begin at the beginning."**

"There was an improvised meeting at the last minute. We have been trying to contact England but to no avail. We tried to locate him, contacted your government too but again, nobody could give us any answer. On a foolish idea of Alfred, we went to see if we could find England and we … broke into his apartment last night."

"You broke into his flat? You're in trouble~!" William chuckled, imagining England's furious expression once he heard about this. Canada nodded sheepishly, thinking exactly the same thing as the Welsh. Scotland motioned him to continue, his expression stoic and undisturbed.

"There was this wardrobe and … I'm not quite sure … we found ourselves in some dark room. Invisible voices started talking to us and …"

"Ghosts appeared! There were ghosts!"

"Don't be ridiculous, America! Ghosts don't exist!" China snapped angrily but his words weren't as convinced as he had hoped. A small doubt remained in every nation's mind as they remembered the floating figures above their heads.

"Aye, and?" Alistair interrupted their thoughts, still harbouring a stern face, his emeralds getting bored with every passing second.

"We … when the … uh, _ghosts_ appeared, we panicked a bit. Someone tripped against a shelf and I heard a crashing sound. I can't say exactly what happened after that … I think I saw a door open and then … I can't remember." Matthew frowned as he tried to recall.

"Next!" Patrick called with a roll of his eyes.

The nations stared at one another, not understanding until the Irishman snapped his fingers and all found themselves floating three meters above the ground.

"Which one of you bastards is going to fill in the blanks of little Canada? Hurry up or Patrick will lose his patience." William smiled lazily as his ginger brother started moving his hand around, balancing the nations from the left to right in mid-air.

"Ve! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to break it!"

Alistair lifted his hand up once more and Patrick reluctantly stopped slamming everyone against the walls of the room. Feliciano felt his body touch ground while his friends were still high up above him pending between a painful (not deadly as they are nations) fall or a slamming into walls tour.

"Speak." Alistair's summon was absolute and made Feliciano's body bolt up into a failed military stand.

"I'm sorry! When I tripped I knocked my head against the shelf and it fell and I'm sorry and when I tried to pick it up I stepped on it and I'm sorry and then the door opened and I'm sorry and I saw Alice and I'm sorry and I got distracted, I'm sorry, and I dropped it and it broke and I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!"

"… What'd he say?" Patrick lifted a sceptical eyebrow, completely confused by the Italian's ramble.

"I don't know. I don't speak "I'm sorry" language. Ask his brother to translate." William pointed at the floating Romano who paled when he heard his name being called for interrogation.

"Alice …?"

Scotland's word resonated in the room like a curse. Ireland and Wales slowly heard the name sink in and realised what Feliciano had spoken. All three pairs of emeralds darted to the Italian, threatening and fearful at the same time. Feliciano blinked as he realised he was not being yelled at nor killed. Instead, everyone was staring at him like he had announced the end of the world. Other nations were frowning at the odd familiar name, yet they had never heard of it before.

"Veee … Did I say something wrong?" The confused Italian tilted his head and crossing eyes with Alistair, he realised that his word was one he should not have known. Ever.

"Alice. You said you saw … _Alice_?" The crimson haired nation asked once more.

"Si …?"

"… Kill him." Patrick spoke, his face twisting with fury. Wales' expression turned dark and he had already drawn a gun, waiting only for confirmation from Scotland. But Scotland suddenly turned to the door that had appeared out of nowhere in the room.

"Shite." Was all he could say before the door opened and a beautiful blonde girl ran in, breathless and glaring furiously.

"ALISTAIR WALLACE KIRKLAND! WHAT ON BLOODY EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" She growled and charged at her taller brother, ignoring everyone and everything else in the room.

"You woke up."

"Yes, I woke up! Well, done, genius! Now, answer me!"

"… Interrogation?"

"Interrogation? In the bloody pits?"

"Well …"

"DON'T YOU DARE TRY AND JUSTIFY YOURSELF! SEND THEM BACK DOWN, RIGHT NOW!"

The man looked about to argue but Alice's emerald eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's an order." She whispered.

All three Britons shot each other hesitant looks before nodding to the girl.

A snap of Scotland's fingers.

The room morphed into a large grandiose living room where a butler dressed of white stood still with a tray of silver tea set.

"Oh? I see we are having tea early." He smiled mischieviously.

* * *

"Alicia! Ve! I was right! It really was Alicia!" Feliciano cheered happily before throwing himself at Alice's neck and hugging her smaller frame. He was surprised to find himself much taller than her. In his memories, Alice had always been taller than him … then again, that was back when they were children.

Alice blushed at the unexpected contact and tried to pull away from the Italian's grip but … but why didn't she? Strangely, the cheerfulness in Italy's voice was refreshing. The fondness in his hug was familiar yet missed for a long time. How long has it been since Feliciano could hug her like that? He used to scream and run away in panic whenever he saw her … ah, no. Whenever he saw _Arthur_. She's not Arthur. Not even England. And nobody expects her to exist. Nobody remembers her existence. And nobody was ever meant to remember.

Why did Feliciano remember?

"Alright! That's enough familiarity! If I see you lay another finger on her, I'll make you fingerless!" Ireland growled as he pulled Alice protectively away from the Italian.

All the while, Wales was scanning other nations' reactions. It was not one to make him pleased. At all. They all seem to be focused on trying to remember something. Like they had witnessed or heard a familiar thing yet could not remember. The kind of reaction one would have from having suffered a memory spell and yet being forced to stare at the very thing one was meant to forget.

And that would be … Alice.

"Aly … I dragged them out, like you asked. But now, you have to answer my questions." Alistair went to take a seat by the small table already covered in enough tea cups for everyone – courtesy of Bunny.

He took a sip of his cup and narrowed watchful emeralds on his sister. Alice went to take her seat facing him, crossed her legs in a defensive position and sipped her own tea, not speaking for a long while. Slowly, the remaining two Britons joined them, protectively sitting on either side of the blonde girl. Of all the other nations, only Feliciano joined them. Because he was thirsty and they didn't have any coffee.

"You didn't have to send them to the pits, you know." Alice huffed in annoyance but deep inside she felt actually quite happy that her brother cared this much for her that he would drag someone all the way to the pits of Hell (metaphorical Hell, though you would not be judged for doubting it seeing as it feels like the actual real Hell) up in the castle's attic. Yes, because you get pits and cellars upstairs instead of downstairs. Well, what else did you expect here?

"I'm sending them back up if you don't answer me in the next three minutes." Alistair's cold order sliced through the still air of the room. Nobody dared to interrupt the brother and sister. Somehow, there did seem to hold any room between them for anybody to butt in.

"Last year." Alice eventually mumbled in her breath.

"Thought so." The Scot growled. He could tell when Alice lied to him. And ever since last year, he was certain that she had been hiding something from him. He just didn't think she'd be this careless!

"I erased it all." Alice went on, trying to justify herself while avoiding to cross the angry green eyes of her crimson-haired brother.

"Clearly you missed one." William pointed at Feliciano. The Italian was trying to follow the conversation but only got more confused with each word.

"I didn't. And I don't understand. I just … I didn't bring them here. They broke in."

"So I was right! Someone had broken in! And those bastards are the ones responsible for Cobalt's blindness!" Wales hissed angrily.

"I didn't tell you guys because it would have ended up exactly like now: You thinking of the most absurd way of how to murder a nation!" Alice rolled her eyes and then looked away sheepishly as she continued.

"Also … I thought I'd try and see …"

"See what?" Patrick grumbled at his sister's carelessness. But Alice stared up at Alistair when she answered, almost seeking his understanding and forgiveness. You'd never see England do that. But Albion probably would.

"Alba … I just wanted to see if I was still alive."

"And?" Alistair asked, emotionless, like he always gets when talking serious matters.

"I am … dead." She nodded mostly to herself than anybody else. Reminding herself constantly. Forcing the words to flow out of her mouth as naturally as possible. Because it was true.

She is dead.

She always knew it.

"Ve? I don't understand. Why does Albion think she is dead? I thought Albion was dead but I'm happy she is not! I love Albion! I love England too but … veeee … how can there be two personifications of one land? How can Albion exist with England?" Feliciano kept rambling on, lost in his thoughts and not noticing the disbelieving looks everybody sent him.

"You said you erased _everyone's_ memory?" Alistair asked Alice but his eyes were still locked on Feliciano. She nodded, equally staring at the Italian.

"I did. Twice in his case because he phoned me and still remembered Alice. Plus he … Albion … he … I didn't speak a word! He just … remembered." Alice lowered her head almost in shame at that last word.

"He couldn't have!" Patrick barked, shaking his head as he refused to acknowledge this turn of event.

"Alice didn't tell him. What better explanation do you have, Ireland?" Wales rolled his eyes at his brother's stubbornness.

"Enough, the both of you! Alice, it's your call. We still have those guys to deal with." Scotland pointed back at the dumbfounded and confused nations. Some of which were slowly feeling an irritating ring in the back of their minds as they heard the name Albion. Where had they heard that name before? Where … no, _when_?

"I can erase their minds and we can just forget about this whole thing!"

"That won't work, Stupid South! At this stage, they already know and have seen too much." another girl's voice called before Northern Ireland walked into the room and joined her siblings' little reunion. Following after her, Peter watched in amazement at the room and then in horror at the nations that had intruded. He rushed to Alice and clung to her, almost as if he was trying to hide her away. In his panic, he never spoke a word.

"I'm fine, Peter. Thanks love." Alice picked him up and gently seated him on her knees, caressing his golden hair so similar to her own. Her eyes then looked up at the standing nations and she sighed.

"Are you all going to just stand there and wait until Christmas or are you going to join us? You'll need a seat, after I've explained everything. Trust me."

* * *

Imperium Romanum.

How could his name have become just a mere name on some child's history book? Why was his name not feared anymore? Why was he not worshipped? Why was his land, his precious _Roma_ not at the heart of the world? Why …

Why is he sitting in some small living room and a small flat in Rome watching some odd _film_ (was it?) on this magical box (a … _television_, Feliciano called it?) and being forbidden to leave until his supposed _grandsons_ return from whatever weird meeting they had with the rest of this fucked up world?! World meetings? What the hell does that mean? Why would you even wish to meet your enemies? All the contact you need with other countries is their servitude!

Romulus dove deeper into his dark thoughts. He mostly was in a foul mood because the Italian twins had not taken him along to the meeting in New York. Little did he know that the said meeting was now oddly taking place somewhere on a small Atlantic Island up in the North of Europe.

"And they're late." The young man grumbled, growing impatient and irritable.

If only Sicily and Sardinia had not left yesterday, he would have someone to keep him company! And Romulus always favoured the company of pretty girls to whining annoying grandsons (supposedly, though he still doesn't buy this whole family thing).

The doorbell rang.

Romulus lifted a half-surprised and half-uncaring eyebrow. Should he answer? What the hell! He has nothing better to do anyway!

Had he waited a bit longer, things could have turned out differently. Had he waited only just a few five measly minutes and he would have been interrupted by a phone call from his future. But he didn't. Instead, the Roman Empire walked straight to answer to his past.

"Ciao Fratellino~! Long-time no see!"

…

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.


	11. Alice for One Day

**Chap 10: Alice for One Day**

_The man … no, he wasn't a man._

_The creature looked down at the small terrified girl at his feet. Terrified but not one bit backing away as she held her ground and hardened her wide, fearful yet determined, emerald gaze on the creature. She was young … then again, old enough to bear a child, maybe around … 15 years old? Such a small and weak thing. That small and weak thing had dared to summon him? HIM?_

"_A child?" The shadow creature huffed in some bored amusement at his own awkward and ridiculous situation. Him, summoned by some human girl?_

"_A child indeed." The girl nodded. But she wasn't talking about herself._

_The shadow grew larger, bigger and more threatening as the creature hissed in warning. Insolence was not something he would tolerate from such a weak thing!_

"_Are you testing my patience, girl? Do you even understand your situation?"_

"_Do _you_?"_

_The creature silenced. Somehow, the way that child spoke was not the words of a child. Her eyes were not ones of innocent curiosity but those of tired wisdom. Her body may look young but the shadow could see scars of time and human struggle on her._

_She is no child._

_But was she ever one?_

_The creature tilted its head, red eyes seemingly trying to figure out the strange human that had enough foolishness and strength to drag him out of his sleep and request his services._

"_**Why is a raven like a writing desk?**__" He suddenly asked with a large toothy smirk far too large for his face._

_The girl seemed to think for a minute before shrugging her shoulders and smiling back at the creature, all potential fear having left her eyes._

"_Why is a writing desk like a raven?"_

"_Why?" The creature asked back in genuine curiosity._

_The girl shrugged her shoulders once more, chuckling lightly._

"_I haven't the faintest idea."_

_He smiled back bowing his head in respect. He understood that he had lost the game. And when one loses the game, one must bow his head to the winner._

_That is the rule._

"_My lady, may I be given my mistress's name?"_

"_**I'm afraid I can't explain myself, Sir, because I am not myself, you see?**__"_

_Again another puzzle. The creature pondered on the girl's words, he noticed her knowing smirk and her teasing knowledgeable green eyes. She was no child._

"_Tell me, Bunny, what is the purpose of your existence?" The girl spoke up once more._

"_To serve my master." The creature shot his answer, yet had to notice the odd name his mistress had given him. Bunny … what an odd mistress indeed. To know so much about him when she hasn't yet seen him in his true form._

"_Mine is to serve myself." She answered back in a conversational tone._

"_I live to serve but let others die in my name. I die in hearts but live in memories. I walk the world like others walk inside their house. Who am I, Bunny, kindly tell me?" The girl spoke another riddle and yet, her voice sounded like an honest question._

_As if she truly did not know the answer._

_Who am I? What an odd question._

"_You are my mistress." He answered again in a monotonous and automatic response. But he was honest in his words and truly meant them. There is no doubt in his mind anymore._

_She nodded slowly, seemed a little disappointed but her grin rushed back to her cute face as she blew back a couple of golden strands of hair out of her face._

"_I know Bunny. And the world doesn't need me anymore. Do you need me?"_

"_I do."_

"_Then stay by my side. And keep me sane."_

"_Keep you sane?"_

"_Yes. Or I might forget that I am dead."_

"_Are you dead?"_

"_Am I? What do you think, Bunny?"_

"_**I don't think …**__" Bunny frowned but got interrupted by his new owner._

"_**Then you shouldn't talk**__." She smiled and motioned him to follow her through a large blue door._

_He had never seen this door before. Nor did he understand its purpose or what it held. As he passed it, he noticed a crystal lock that his mistress clicked when shutting the door behind them._

"_And now, I am alive." She spoke with a dry chuckle. There was no happiness in her voice._

"_My lady …"_

"_Yes, Bunny?"_

"_Why have you requested my services? For what purpose?"_

_The girl tilted her head with a slight frown before laughing._

"_What a silly question! To serve me, of course!"_

"…"

"_The door?" Alice asked, already noticing the curious red eyes darting to the blue door._

"_I have never seen such a route. Where does it lead?"_

"_Where do you wish to go?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Then it doesn't matter where it leads, does it?"_

"… _So long as it leads somewhere." The confused Bunny mumbled and was answered by the crystal laughter of the young girl as she walked deep into the castle, motioning her servant to follow._

"_Oh, you're sure it will! So long as you walk long enough!"_

_The creature shrugged and dismissed the odd riddles of his new owner before following her._

_He still didn't know her name._

_Or who she was._

_No._

_He knew who she was: She was his mistress. And her name is irrelevant._

"_Bunny? What is your name?"_

"_My name is what my mistress calls me."_

"_Then what is my name?"_

"_It does not matter."_

"… _No, it doesn't. Because my name is only an unheard whisper." She sighed before smiling lazily at the man …, no, he isn't a man. His neat white clothing contrasted with the hard stone environment of the manor._

"_May I ask, Mistress?" the man in white asked._

"_You may ask. Just do not expect a necessary answer."_

"_What whisper should I not hear of?"_

"… _You are a curious one, aren't you?"_

"_Demons often are, my little lady."_

"_I wasn't expecting one able to enjoy my games. I do get bored here and find nothing else to do."_

_She paused as if thinking of something far yet that had only occurred recently._

"_The name that I went by yesterday was Arthur Kirkland. The name the world knew me as yesterday was England. Today, the world shall not remember my name. Tomorrow it might remember … and it might not. But the whispers you shall only hear of today are: Alice Kirkland and the Land of Albion."_

* * *

"Dude … no way."

The gathered nations stared in shock at … uh … England? Scotland grunted darkly. To think they had managed to keep this a secret and suddenly they all just turn up?! Just bloody great! All because of that bloody American who decided on this improvised world meeting! Damn! If only they could all forget about Alice! Maybe he should still erase their memories? The risk with that spell is that you might erase more than just that one single memory … the risk is you render the person amnesia! Oh, but that sounds fine! Perfect! That way we're sure they won't remember at single thing concerning Alice!

Said Alice smiled tiredly at the stunned expressions of her fellow nations. In the corner of her mind, she had hoped that one of them would have remembered her. But clearly, aside from Feliciano, all had long erased Albion and indeed Alice from their memories. Well, it would have been surprising otherwise since Alistair, Patrick and William all combined their powers to erase Albion's existence in history. It now only remains as a word, a lost name in a book, with no real ring to it or any meaning. Just a word. And not even that anymore.

"Albion … …" Came the soft questioning voice of Greece. He looked unusually alert and his eyes wide and awake watching the blonde girl with intense grey. He seemed puzzled and confused, like he was trying to remember. He would, wouldn't he? Alice shook her head, almost to incite him not to even try and remember. It would only hurt his head and was probably pointless.

"Veee! Alicia … Albion is … Inghilterra?!" Feliciano shouted and stood up suddenly, staring eyes wide at Alice almost in disbelief.

Said Alice averted her eyes with a frown on her face. Why was it such a big deal? So she's a girl! Big deal! Get over it already! And Alfred is staring at her as if she had declared the beginning of WW3! Can't he stop gapping like an idiot? And that annoying frog is looking her down with his pervy smirk again! Oh, he is so going to regret laying eyes on her! Tch! And Antonio's expression is irritating! Why is he blushing, that idiot?! Same as China actually … Oh~! Maybe they figured it out?

"But Albion died!" Lovino almost yelled as he stood up just as suddenly as his brother. Looks like he got his memory back too. Strange.

Alice watched the disbelieving eyes of the Italians. This was … awkward. She never thought that one day, she'd have to explain herself to these two. Or anyone, for that matters.

Fate hates her. Definitely.

"Hold on! Dude … I mean dudette, how come nobody knew that you were a chick! Hell, how come I didn't know?!" Alfred growled. He looked offended for having been kept in the dark concerning this matter.

"I agree! Why didn't you tell Big Brother?! I could have bought you lovely clothes! Your figure is charming! I didn't get to see you grow up! What a miss!" France held his head in frustration and was soon interrupted by Alice's foot in his face. The eerie dark aura around the girl was enough to make every nation take a frightful step back. Her emerald eyes glared in a threatening glow and she cracked her knuckles with a large evil grin twisting her cute face into the mask of a demon.

"What was that about my clothes and my body, frog?" Her cold voice rang like a bell announcing the beginning of an execution.

England is bad enough.

Looks like Girl England is even worse! Female hormones can be scary …

"E-Eh! Mister … Ah, um, Miss England … please … calm down …" Shy Canada was back. Now that England was found (granted not the England he expected) he didn't feel as anxious as before and his invisible presence was back to normal. Meaning, he went unheard by everyone, especially the demonic girl. Scotland sighed. He knew that his brother's temper was even shorter when he got into his Female-Mode. But that was the least of his concerns. Right now, his problem was …

"Aly, what are you wearing?" His eyes looked over his sister's clothes with a judging glint.

The distraction had the benefit of sparing France's life and Alice turned a raised eyebrow at her brother. She looked down at her too-large T-shirt (man size) and her baggy jeans (man size as well) only held to her waist thanks to a belt. She looked back up and gazed into the identical emerald eyes of her sibling.

"What's wrong with my clothes?"

"They're for Arthur."

"Your point?"

"I didn't buy you a new dress just so that you leave it lying in a cupboard to catch dust over centuries."

"Really? Because I thought that was your daily occupation." Alice smirked at the irritated expression of Alistair.

"Relax, Al, I wore it the last time, didn't I? You should know by now that I don't make well with dresses."

"You're telling me! I had to sneak out her old under-garments otherwise she'd still be wearing those hideous plain 19th century stuff!" Fiona rolled her eyes.

Alice's face blushed bright red at the comment and her eyes darted murderously at her sister. Oh yeah! Now that she remembered, she's still mad at North concerning that matter!

"Not that talking about your clothes isn't a fascinating topic, Aly, but we were dealing with a prior matter." Ireland pointed at the rest of the confused nations.

"Yeah. They broke into your flat, you know." Wales chuckled and was glad to see his sister's face return to its murderous mode as a response.

"They broke into my flat?!" Alice whispered in contained anger. Her gaze narrowed on the intruding nations and the thoughts crossing her mind were too obvious not to make them nervous.

"England?" The shy voice squeaked.

All eyes turned to Peter.

* * *

"Peter! Didn't Auntie North tell you not to come down?" Alice sent a reproachful glance at her guilty-looking sister before turning a tired smile at her son.

"She did." Peter nodded, his face stoic and barely showing any concern at having interrupted Alice's 'murder session in progress'.

"Oi, Pete, be a good lad and go back to your room." Alistair growled with a scolding look that made the sailor boy flinch but he only took a step closer to his mother.

Locking his ocean blue eyes with hers, he still wasn't used to all this. This life-style. This family. This secret. But … he's not willing to give up his chance at having a mother yet. Sending an icy glare at the foreign nations, you'd almost mistake him for Sweden. A mini-England glaring like Sweden. Not a pleasant combination. But it only made Alice smile in amusement.

"What is it, love?" She whispered softly and picked up the boy in her arms. Nations tended to forget that England had many colonies and as such took care of many kids. And believe it or not, being a man never stopped him from being an excellent care-taker and parental figure.

Peter glanced hesitantly at the other nations before leaning to whisper in the woman's ear.

"Norway's on the phone."

"Eh? The phone rang?" Alice tilted her head. With all that had been going on, neither she nor her siblings had heard the ringing phone. Only little Peter. He nodded and continued to whisper.

"He said Scandinavia is … uh … '_coming to check on the brats of the isles_'."

"HE FUCKING SAID WHAT?!" Scotland roared and in seconds, he had charged out the door, huffing like and enraged beast. Alice tsked before motioning at Wales to follow after their Scottish sibling. Ireland rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, massaging his temples like an old man who had lived and seen too much. North was face-palming, and sending irritated and accusing glares at the surplus of nations in their living room. Bunny refilled their teacups again. It had gone cold. Fifth time now.

"Thank you, child. Can you tell Norway that'll be with him in a minute? As soon as I'm done with another matter." Alice glanced sideways at her visitors then turned to her butler.

"Bunny. I need time." She ordered as if demanding tea to be shipped half-way across the globe to serve her 3 o'clock tea time.

"Certainly. How long?" The butler smirked and a few nations moved further away from him, noticing how his shadow had already started to grow and change into some freakish rabbit shape.

"Until I call." Alice answered and went back to take her seat and her freshly brewed tea (thanks bunny).

"As you wish." Red eyes flashed before the man and his moving shadow walked out of the room, leaving the door to vanish thus sealing everyone in a room of five walls. Yes, five. And no door. And … oh yeah a small lonely table with too many teacups on it in a room with too many nations.

"Now then … I'm guessing Alistair is not going to be back for a while. I'm just going to explain for those who might not yet be aware but we are currently suffering a Time-Paradox crisis here. It'd be nice not to have outsiders meddle in our business! Especially since one of you is most likely responsible for our current mess!" Alice's accusing tone snapped at the other nations.

"One of us … hold it! I don't understand! You're … Arturo?" Spain spoke up first.

"I thought we already covered that point! Yes, Tony, it's me! Arthur! Get over it! I get this every year so don't turn it into a miracle! Besides, weren't you the one to complain that you'd rather have a girlfriend instead of me?" Alice rolled her eyes and was irritated when Antonio moved to grab her by her shoulders. Peter hugged her tighter and moved his body in-between them, acting like a shield to his mother.

"I didn't …! I was …! I … … I love you!"

Alice blinked, unsure of what had brought that up and how she was supposed to react. Another strange thing was that … well, since when did Spain openly claimed his love for her like that? Even when they had been dating, to public eyes they had always seemed like enemies or rivals. This is weird.

"I'm sorry …?"

"Hands off."

* * *

Strangely enough, Ireland wasn't the one to speak those words of warning. Though he wished he had and was about to. But China beat him to it, glaring angry golden eyes at the tanned man. Now if Alice didn't know any better, she'd think Yao was doing it for her sake … … he was? Well, fuck. That sounds … unlike Yao in every way! Her dating China had been short and intense but always very … um … tensed. She and the Chinese were trading partners and Alice … well, Arthur, used to visit often Yao. And one thing led to another … they woke up in the same bed. Yao freaked out the first time but by the 5th time, he seemed to have adopted a platonic approach to things. He'd never openly speak his feelings and never mention their … uh … adventures? No matter how many times Arthur had tried to engage them into something more definite, China would evade the topic. It was strange and Arthur had fun but … again, it wasn't a very settled and reliable relationship. Not to say it wasn't serious! Yao was definitely serious about him … her … him … (pick whichever). He'd get jealous so easily and hated seeing her/him with Japan. Or anyone. Oh yeah, Spain got easily jealous too, thinking back. Uh. Why did she always pick the jealous type?

"Stay out of this, lemon face." The Spaniard spat and his grip on Alice tightened.

"Antonio …"

"Arthur, I want to know."

"Eh?"  
Antonio turned a serious expression to a confused and awkward Alice/Arthur.

"How long has this been going on?"

"This …? You mean my switch? Oh, most of my life. Well, really since England was born." Alice shrugged like it was no big deal but her answer only confused Spain even further. He may not have the same memory as the Italians but he does remember the name Albion. Only in a distant corner of his mind … like a shadow … a child he used to see or even know … from roman times … so long ago.

"HOLD IT!" Alfred suddenly cried out and charged, pushing Spain out of the way as he scrutinised England's face. Alice frowned at his lack of manner and brutal behaviour.

"What now, Alfred?"

"… Dude … your eyebrows … shit! They're normal! Woah! That is so freaky!" Alfred poked at Alice's thin eyebrows. Said eyebrows twitched and Alfred was quickly acquainted with Arthur's Empire-Mode punch. Or in this case: Alice's Empire-Mode punch. Unsure which is worse. Wouldn't want to be Alfred.

As he slammed into the wall, feeling his body sink into the stone and created a deep mark in the wall thanks to the impact, Alfred felt his jaw almost dismantle itself and break. Damn! England sure can pack a punch when he wants to! This is the first time Alfred is on the receiving end of England's punches. It hurts. Like hell! He didn't have time to dwell on it than Alfred saw a dagger fly at him. America avoided the blade by just inches and looked as it cut deep into the wall behind him. He turned back to see a red flushed furious England glaring at him.

"YOU INSUFFERABLE WANKER! ARE MY EYEBROWS THE ONLY DAMN THING YOU CAN BLOODY THINK OF?!"

Higher pitched but still the same voice with the same angry tone and the same insults. Alfred grinned delightedly. Yep! That's England alright! Her strength is almost as freaky as his but Alfred didn't think much of it.

"Woah! Dude-ette! Damn, need to get used to that. Anyway, relax! I was just saying, you know! You look like totally weird without those eyebrows but you're actually super cute as a girl! Why did you change to be a boy! Girl totally suits you, you know!"

"What's wrong with me in my man form?" England rose from her seat and walked up threateningly towards the American, cracking her knuckles and glaring down.

"Nothing dude! I mean, dudette! You're totally awesome! It's just when you're a chic, you have the '_cute'_ bonus!"

"Uh uh … Do you want to see how _cute_ I can be?" The blonde girl smiled sadistically and America almost regretted ever speaking. Ok, so this England chic seems to get pissed even quicker than the male England. Noted. Now please don't kill me! Damn … did he just sound like Italy?

"Alice, you're scaring the lad."

"Your point?" Alice asked as she shot a lifted eyebrow at her crimson haired brother. Alistair shrugged as he walked back into the room followed by William. He looked like he had calmed down.

"Just saying maybe you should calm down a tad."

"… Fine." She mumbled as she walked back her seat.

All the intruding nations realised that England didn't simply look like a girl, she acted like a girl. Her whole body had changed along with her hormones. Even if her personality is the same, some slight distinctions were noticeable. Well, first of, her temper got worse. Well, not exactly worse … more like different. She would react just as aggressively as a man and seemed to not appreciate being treated differently.

"Americano Bastardo! Arthur looks cute even with his eyebrows! His eyebrows are as lindo as the rest of him!" Spain hissed in anger at America. He was mad at having been pushed aside but also at the way Alfred had idly chatted with Arthur/Alice (well, look at it from Spain's point of view! Even if from Alice's point of view, Alfred was being a complete git).

"Dude, what's with you?" Alfred rolled his eyes as he massaged his jaw. Damn Alice could pack a punch. Where did that strength come from that tiny … cute … super cute body. Alfred shook his blushing face. He could not be having those kinds of thoughts! Especially about _England_! It was England! His old man! Woman … man … damn. He is not getting used to that.

"Exactly what I was thinking. What's with you, tomato airhead? Since when is Arthur any of your concern?!" China charged at Spain, royally ignoring America (who didn't appreciate it).

The two nations hissed at each other in a deadly glare lock.

"I don't care what this place is. I don't care why this whole thing makes no sense. And I don't even care whether Arthur is actually a girl or not! But I do mind the way you familiarise with my property." China muttered darkly.

"Your property? If I remember well, Arthur was Spanish property before he even met you!"

"And if I remember, he destroyed your armada and crushed your dreams of expansion. In fact, I remember you dumping him!"

"I didn't …!"

"Denial?"

"Who's talking? The man that blamed Arturo for his own opium addiction! Are you that desperate?"

Alice looked at the arguing males with surprise. Ok. Not exactly the situation she expected. She thought they'd ask how …

* * *

"… My mother is too good for any of you, anyways." Peter mumbled with an irritated frown.

Every eye in the room darted to the young micro-nation, China and Spain froze in the midst of their fight, America shot a curious and suspicious frown at the blonde boy by Alice's side, and Alice herself was staring at Peter as if he had two heads. Did he actually call her … _his mother_? This was the first time she ever heard the boy call her such. She believed that Peter was still considering Finland as his 'Mother'. A soft pink blush dusted her cheeks and she bit the inside of her cheek to avoid a giddy happy smile from spreading on her lips. She felt so … happy!

America never hated Sealand, far from it, but the words the boy just spoke irritated him for some reason. He also didn't like the sudden odd closeness between these two. Peter usually never wanted anything to do with England, and now, he was all over the man! Well, woman. You get the point!

"Hey,Sealand, that's not very nice you know! Plus you shouldn't lie like that! Calling England your mum and all, I mean yeah, you look alike but …"

"She is my mother. And you're overstepping your place." Sealand spoke coldly. He no longer was the innocent child they all knew. Somehow, the boy seemed to have grown into … well … shit, into one of those crazy Britons! He acted similar to Alice's brothers! Added to that the coldness of the Nordics in his behaviour. Alice patted his head gently and was about to tell him off but she got beaten to it by America, who was, might I add, furious at being talked down to by a kid and not even a nation!

"Oi! Who do you think you are?! Besides, you hate England! Since when do you act like family with him?"

"Because you're one to talk, Mister-I-want-independence?" the sailor boy rolled his eyes with a smirk. He had hit a cord and Alfred was on the verge of jumping and strangling the boy.

"So, little boy wants to play with the grown-ups?" Alfred's anger subsidised and his faced turned into a cold smirking mask. Canada watched with frightful eyes at his brother. The last time Alfred got this expression … well, have you heard of Iraq or Afghanistan?

"That's enough. You're all acting like children and frankly, I'm getting tired of this." Alice spoke before taking a sip of her tea. She never raised her voice but something in her tone silenced everyone (including China and Spain who had even resorted to violence).

The woman turned her attention to Alfred and chided him like one would a child. Alfred hated this but he took it without a complaint. Because England was the only one to have the right to chide him.

"America, Peter is not lying. He is indeed my son. And I mean it quite literally. I would appreciate if you didn't threaten my family, or so help me, I will make you regret the moment you decided to cut ties with this very family." Her tone sounded calm and composed yet it made Alfred nod reluctantly and shoot angry glares at a nearby wall, not daring to contradict her. She then turned to China and Spain, tilting her head and letting her emerald eyes hover over them, judging and analysing.

"Last time I checked. I beat both you to a pulp. So the next time I hear such absurdities as "property" I'll personally remind you of the beating. Am I clear?"

Neither of the nations answered, glaring both at Alice and each other. Alistair chuckled discreetly behind his sister. She never changed. She was still Arthur. Even with a gender switch, you could not forget who you are dealing with.

"How can he be your son? I thought he was Sweden and Finland's son?" Alfred snapped, still angry and like a rebellious child, he dared to tease Arthur/Alice's patience. This time, Wales had enough of it all. He stood up and glared at their audience of nations, narrowing his eyes on America.

"American Bastard. Do you know how humans are born?"

"Eh? Yeah, of course I know!" The sudden odd question confused Alfred who frowned while everyone else was slowly taking in the implications of William's words. Other nations seemed to have understood the hint and their expressions turned to pure amazement and shock as they stared at Alice and her child. Spain and China were especially shocked. Alice noticed. Oh. So they hadn't figured it out already? How disappointing …

"Well, nations are born the same way. How else do you think we came to exist? We didn't just pop out of nowhere! We may not necessarily know or remember our biological parents but we all have some! Alice is a nation able to give birth! Do I need to explain it again?" William growled as he watched Alfred's blushing understanding face. So the idiot got the point after all! Finally! All Wales wanted now was to get rid of those idiots so that they can deal with the Scandinavian bastard.

"But …! But …! I thought nations couldn't give birth!" Alfred squeaked in realisation and panic.

"Most can't. In our modern times, there aren't many girls to start with and among them, only a handful are able to give birth. In the past you had more female nations so it wasn't as uncommon as today to see them have children. But well, in the handful of nowadays, Alice is one of those nations." Scotland shrugged as he continued his brother's explanation.

They all took in the information pretty well … um, kind of like a bulldozer crashing through a house. Ok, so not so well. The small group of nations just couldn't believe that this beautiful lady was actually the grumpy England! No fucking way! And she actually gave birth?! That's so rare for nations! How can the British Isles have managed to keep such an important secret for so long?! And how many more secrets do they still hold?

* * *

"Veee … How does it work? Does it hurt? Giving birth?"

Yep! _That_ question! Alice was waiting for someone to ask her that! She smiled at the Italian who blushed in consequence. Everyone in the room silenced at the disturbing question. All eager to hear its answer, yet scared at what it might be.

"Like hell. You have no idea how painful it is! Trust me, I love being a guy simply for that reason!"

"I don't believe you! How could nobody notice if you got pregnant?" Spain frowned, shifting his attention away from China and onto Alice.

"Well, Scotland, Wales and Ireland would deal with my work and North would take care of me. It's just nine months guys. You wouldn't notice since for us countries, months are like days. And actually until the fourth month, the pregnancy doesn't show, and I'm still fully capable of my job until the 8th month."

"… Is … Is Victoria also …?" Antonio's voice dropped to a disbelieving whisper. Yes, he had long noticed the physical and personality-wise resemblance of Gibraltar to both him and England. He had often questioned England concerning her existence and where Arthur had found her. But now … he was almost afraid to understand.

"Yes. She is. Leon too, before you ask." Alice shifted her eyes to China.

"But how did it happen?!" China yelled, getting more and more frustrated. He and Spain looked about to break into madness by that point, both huddling around Alice and their eyes seeking unbelievable answers.

"… You were there. I do hope you remember how sex works because if not, go and ask France!" Alice replied with irritation and a fierce blush on her face. She hated talking about it.

"That's not what I meant!" China blushed just as much as England while Antonio growled at them both. "Each time we … uh … did it, you were a man! A man cannot fall pregnant!"

"Yeah well, that's kind of tricky. You see, there's a week period prior to the day of my changing back into a woman where my hormones are already starting to change. My body adopts the same aptitudes as women's during that period. It's not a change that happens in one night! This is a permanent gender change! It takes time and it's _fucking painful_, I'll have you know! But anyway, this change happens because my seal weakens. And the weakening starts a week before the actual transformation and lasts a week after the transformation until it all gets back to normal, so during that time … I can get pregnant. Well, unless it coincides with my periods. Obviously during the time of the pregnancy, Scotland unlocks my seal so that I can spend those nine months as a woman and avoid harming the kid. But it doesn't happen often. Only if I'm not topping of course." Alice smirked, knowing full-well that rare are the times she wouldn't top (specifically for that reason actually).

China and Spain both felt their faces burn red and they glared angrily at her.

"Well, that explains why you'd refuse to bottom. I had to get you drunk for you to consent or …" Spain mumbled with an understanding nod.

"Are you implying that you forced yourself on my brother?!" Alistair roared and was about to pounce on Spain but Alice quickly interrupted their forthcoming fight.

"It's just that I don't know when exactly my transformation day will be. Even if it's once a year, it can happen at any time. It's quite irregular and unstable, I'll admit." Alice sighed.

"So, it's kind of like you having your periods!" France exclaimed with a large perverted grin before meeting England's fist in his face.

"Keep your unwanted comments to yourself, frog." She growled with an embarrassed blush. She then looked up at her three brothers.

"Now what?"

* * *

**AN: ... Uh. This story is not really popular much. Should I stop? I don't know ... I kind of like it even if it makes no sense.**


	12. Eve before Yesterday

**Chap 11: The Eve before Yesterday**

_Alice stared at her underwear in disbelief._

_Blood._

_She screamed. Not because she had never seen blood before. Hell, she's seen more blood than any human alive on the entire planet. That's not what scared her. Not the blood. It's the implications of this blood._

"_Miss? Is there something wrong?" the inquiring voice of Bunny asked._

_Snapping a panicked head around, Alice shook her head in disbelief, almost refusing to believe her own eyes and the pain striking her insides._

"_Call … call my brothers. Now." She whispered. In her loss and confusion, her only fall back was her brothers. Sometimes, she really wished she had an older sister._

* * *

…

"_This is weird."_

"_I never thought this would happen."_

"_Well, what did you expect?! She's a girl! Of course it would happen! Honestly, you never think thoroughly the consequences, Scotland!"_

"_Because you're one to talk, Ireland?"_

"_Guys … I don't mind your bickering but weren't we meant to solve this … issue? I think England is having a break down."_

"_Arthur! Aly, don't worry! It's fine! We'll sort this out!"_

"_And how exactly are we going to sort anything out, Alistair?"_

"_Turn her back earlier than expected?" Wales suggested._

"_Are you both insane?!" Ireland growled at his two younger brothers. "She's in one of her most fragile state as a woman! The Switch is already strain enough on her body as it is, don't make it worse! And it's too early for her to return to her male-form!"_

"_Then what do we do?!"Scotland growled in frustration and anger, panicking more and more. He could not bear to be so useless when his sister is in pain._

"_Nothing. We do absolutely nothing." Patrick concluded._

_Both Wales and Scotland stared at their ginger older brother before both punched him in the face._

"_THE HELL WAS THAT FOR, IDIOTS?!"_

"_Nothing?! You couldn't come up with a better solution, you useless piece of shite?" Alistair growled and was already clenching his fists, moving eerily closer to Patrick who was glaring back, seemingly prepared to fight back. William watched them, wondering if he should join them or just wait and see which remaining one of the two wankers he would beat up after this?_

"_IT FUCKING HURTS LIKE BLEEDING HELL AND ALL YOU BLOODY WANKERS CAN THINK OF IS HAVING A GODDAMN FIGHT?!" Alice's higher pitched voice resonated, interrupting the boys in their anger._

_She was lying on her bed, clenching at her stomach and groaning in pain. Within seconds, William and Alistair were by her side, asking her how they could possibly help ease her pain, while Patrick was sighing in derision and exasperation. As if those two idiots could do anything! He walked up towards the girl and lay a comforting hand on her forehead. His emerald eyes met hers and she smiled weakly, clearly afraid and worried about her condition. He smiled back, as if to let her know that everything will be alright._

"_It'll hurt for a while. But it's not harmful. You just need to wait and let it pass. But if it's really that painful, I'll make you an herbal concoction to ease the pain."_

"_Please …" She whispered timidly, not entirely sure why Ireland was showing such concern to her. He became really cold after she had changed her identity into Arthur. But whenever she's back to being Alys, he's always more caring and gentle. It's not so bad being a girl from time to time …_

… _Scratch that._

_Being a girl is worse than agonising hell!_

* * *

"_Patrick! She looks in bad shape!"_

"_Yeah … it looks painful …" Wales whispered in deep concern as he petted Alys' head, trying to calm her moans of pain._

_Alistair shot an irritated glare at his older brother who was now walking away to gather the ingredients he would need for his remedy._

"_Glaring at me will not change anything, Scotland. What I said earlier was not to sound heartless. I was serious. In such a situation there is nothing we can do. It's something all women must go through with. It's nature. In fact, it's amazing our little Alys has only gotten hers now."_

"_I thought her change would prevent stuff like that."_

"_It does when she's Arthur. Your seal is well-made but has a flaw. You can't make it last for more than a year. And I figured the reason you keep Alys locked here when she turns back is because you want to keep her hidden and safe while your seal resets itself. How long does it take for the seal to reactivate? A day? A week? I know you keep her locked up for two weeks or sometimes a month in here."_

_Alistair didn't answer. He noticed William's confusion at what his older siblings were saying. Every time Alys had been in this strange castle it was never for more than a few days at most. Alice breathed out before answering in a quiet voice._

"_It's not Al's fault. My body is … still weak. I can't endure switching in a short laps of time. I need a break of at least a couple of weeks or so before I can return to being Arthur. But I can't … If I were to vanish for too long so frequently, people would start to wonder."_

_Patrick glared at her. He sighed upon seeing his sister's eyes sadden. She didn't flinch or looked scared. She had grown up to the point of losing all fear. All she had left in her heart … was dried up tears and throbbing pain._

"_I know all that, silly. I'm not a mage for nothing! Honestly, if I had done the seal, this would not have happened!"_

"_Well you did have your chance but you were so stubborn that I had to do it!" The hot-headed Scot huffed._

"_Well excuse me for actually caring enough about my sister for not wishing her death!"_

"_Pathetic excuse."_

"_You want to die, Boyo?"_

"_Oi!"_

_Both Ireland and Scotland stopped arguing, noticing the growing evil aura of Wales. The younger of the three brothers was sick and tired of all this and the stress was getting to him._

"_Get that damn potion ready before I get impatient." He hissed, his green eyes glowing of a dangerous fire and his teeth grew sharper._

_Without needing to be told twice, both boys rushed out of the room to fetch the needed herbs. Wales turned back to his sister, stroking her hair fondly._

"_Must be painful … being a girl."_

"_Not always. Just occasionally!" Alys chuckled. She never realised that she had stopped considering herself as a girl and was already thinking like a boy. But she wouldn't have cared even if she had noticed. After all, no matter what her body told her, in her mind, her gender was set clear: She was Arthur Kirkland._

* * *

"_Tch … Now Will is going to be all cranky for days! Way to go, Eir!"_

"_If you hadn't been an idiot, none of this would have happened, Alba!"_

_The two boys argued outside in the forest. Despite their childish hostility, the reason they were both on stressed nerves was really because they were concerned about their sister's future. If her body is still able to show biological womanly features such as having her monthly periods … what other inconvenient functions did she still have?_

"_Hey … the blood thing … is this going to happen every time?"_

"… _I can't say. I'm not a doctor. But I don't think so. It's a monthly thing but since Arthur only turns back once a year it might give him a break from this. I think it all depends on his luck. If the switch coincides with his periods then that's the result. But it might not happen many times."_

"_I hope not." Alistair mumbled._

"_Oh, I actually hope it would."_

"_What?!" the scarlet haired man growled._

"_Don't get me wrong. I don't mean that I want Arthur to go through this stupid thing every time but … if he doesn't then doesn't that make him … well, you know …"_

"_Eh?"_

_Patrick rolled his eyes at his brother's obliviousness. Honestly! Is he the only one to fully grasp their situation?! God, why were all his siblings bloody idiots?!_

"_Just make sure he never has any sexual relations with anyone during those times! We might end up with more than blood coming out of her body!"_

_Alistair blinked slowly as the information sunk in and his eyes widened in panic, his face turning as red as his crimson hair._

"_There's no way in hell I'm letting any bastard near her!"_

"_That's the spirit, Alba!" Patrick chuckled._

* * *

Yeah … so much for that.

Ireland sighed, the corner of a smile curling his lips, as he remembered the first time Alice had her periods. What a panic that was! Alistair actually had thought she was injured and dying or something! Can't blame him for thinking this. It was a different time when medicine could not heal much and even nations can die. All of the British Isles are well aware that they are not immortal beings.

"Now what?" Alice's question drew Patrick's attention back to the situation at hand. A much worse situation than Alys having her female hormones kicking in and ruining her day.

"I'm still voting for erasing their memories." He was the first to answer but he already knew from the scowl on Alice's face that this would not happen. Pity.

"Yeah, right! You think I'm an idiot? North already said that by that point we can't just erase today! They know too much plus they already have past experiences that might flash back!"

"Hey! I said we can't erase _just today_, but I never said that I objected the amnesia solution!" Fiona Kirkland, the youngest of the British Isles, ironically enough decided to side with Ireland on that one (which is rare!).

"Aye, I think you can add a bit of torture too!" Wales grinned evilly, his fangs grow sharper and his eyes glowing like ones of a beast. You could almost expect smoke to seep out of his nostrils. The dangerous expression on his face made every nation present take a step back (except the Britons).

"No amnesia! And no torture!" Alice's words sounded like a final order and although her siblings all pouted and sulked, none of them dared to challenge her decision.

She sighed and turned to the strangely awfully quiet Scotland. Him having stayed this quiet for this long is never a good sign. The scarlet haired man was staring into space, his mind elsewhere and concentrating on something only he could see or hear. Alice could only guess that he was sensing danger outside. Bloody great … when this is all over, she is so going to need a holiday! On the moon or something! Far away from any nation bastard!

"Al! Aside from daydreaming, do you have anything to suggest?" She sighed, not really expecting him to answer her. Usually, when your mind is distracted by a magical connection, you lose touch with reality. But the man blinked, as if waking up, and looked down at her, taking in her question.

"Even if I did tell you what I think of all this … would you actually listen?" he asked plainly and with a very odd calm voice.

His siblings watched him, confused. It was rare to see Scotland speak in such a way to England. Alice looked him over before smirking maliciously.

"You know me too well, Brother dear!" She laughed.

Alistair smirked and turned his attention back to his telepathy. Alice frowned at that but didn't ask him who he was communicating with. He'd tell her if it were important. If not, then it's not even worth her time. So instead, she returned to her matter at hand: the too many nations in her house. Well … their house. Well … their fake house. Well … it's complicated.

"Alright. This is how it's going to go: I'm going to tell you everything. After that, you will all return to your respective homes. And by tomorrow morning, this will all seem like a dream to you and everything will be back to normal!"

"The dream card? Really?" Ireland asked with a sceptical eyebrow raised. Alice shrugged.

"That's what I used the last time."

"Yeah, that's something I want to know! What exactly happened last time? AND WHO THE FUCK DARED TO BLIND ONE OF MY DRAGONS?!" William growled, his contained fury slowly taking over his passive attitude.

"… I actually don't know who … but I do think one of these idiots is responsible for Cobalt's eyes getting pierced." Alice shrugged, not really concerned that her brother would most likely murder her nation colleagues for having harmed one of his precious dragons.

"SO? WHICH ONE OF YOU BASTARDS DID THIS?!"

"Ah! Greece was not in the lot the first time!" The blonde English woman pointed out.

"I DON'T CARE! I'LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM!"

"Yeah … I thought you might. But first, I want you to wait." Alice picked up her tea and slowly drank it as she waited for her brown haired brother to calm down.

William glared at her but once again, he did not go against her. Instead, her sat down with a huff, crossed his arms, and narrowed hateful watchful green eyes on his future preys. The world's nations felt highly threatened by his angry glare on them and had difficulty focusing on Alice who had started speaking again.

"Ok … so basically …"

* * *

While a few of the world's countries were isolated in a non-existent castle under the death threat of five very irritated Celts, the rest of the world was slowly shifting and dangerously spinning out of its space and time frame.

The people never noticed it. The nations all felt something odd but aside from that, didn't think much of it. The earth's crust was moving and yet at such a large scale that mere humans could not notice until it already was too late. Lands that were long gone started to sprout out of nowhere. Names long forgotten became common knowledge. While current beliefs died out. Recent and/or unstable states fell into a deep sleep or got taken over, without them even realising.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Romania felt sudden chills run down his spine. He could feel the air around him change and the night felt ominously dangerous. How odd. He had always felt more at ease at night time but now, it felt dark and threatening, as if announcing a grave danger.

"By morning … I can't stay." He mumbled.

The ground under his feet, he could feel it shift and change. The very essence of his being was slowly fading or turning into something new … or something old? He didn't know. But it might have to do with all these apparitions of dead nations that he heard from Norway and England. He knew that Arthur and his brothers were working on it but … was it too late?

Too late for what anyway?

Something is not right … if the issue is only Ancient Ones returning, it should not have any impact on the modern world. So why … why did he feel so …

"Child. Now you should hide." A familiar voice rang in his mind.

Vladimir's ruby eyes widened in shock but there was nobody around. He was alone in his castle as always. Had he dreamed it? That voice …

"A seal should be enough. A strong one, just in case." He decided and headed down to the dark dungeons of his old castle. If he was going to sleep this through, he hoped he will not wake up to a disaster.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Norway groaned as he felt his grip on reality loosen. Was he going mad? Memories he thought inalterable were slowly fading from his mind. Truths that he knew as facts now sounded wrong to his ears. He understood that this was not natural and the work of powerful magic. But such magic no longer exists in this world. Not since Ancient times …

"So tell me, young one, are you still afraid of war as you were when you were small?" a laughing boasting voice resonated near him.

The cold Norwegian turned empty indigo eyes to the man he knows all too well. In the background he could hear Denmark and Sweden arguing. Tino was … nowhere to be found but somehow that did not bother him nor seem unusual. And there was someone else but … why was the name slipping out of his memory?

"No, Father. War no longer bothers me."

Neither does death. Or fear. Or pain.

Scandinavia smiled proudly as he patted his youngest son's shoulder. Looking straight ahead at the approaching islands, he could not refrain a smirk of playful eagerness. He has no idea why he suddenly found himself in the future but he would make the most of it!

"Good! Then I guess we are all set! You seemed so eager to visit the Celts of the Isles, I'm surprised!"

Norway blinked.

Eh?

He wanted to see them? Oh yes, that's true … but why? He needed someone's help … but for what? It's all so fuzzy in his mind …

"The sun will soon rise, my son. Prepare yourself. Prepare for war."

"… Yes, Father."

It was a long night …

* * *

As the blinding rays of light hit the Eastern coasts of Scotland, a pearly white unicorn stood guard with by its side a large golden lion. The two beasts shot each other worried emerald glances. Times of ancient secrets and forgotten magics would soon down on them once again. As it should. The world still would spin around the sun as it always has and always will. But whether this is the same sun as yesterday? It would be a lie to claim such words.

And yet they were true.

That sun rising … that sun was not tomorrow but indeed yesterday.

* * *

**AN: Thank you so much for all of your supports and reviews! I'm definitely going to continue and finish that fic! I just took a few weeks of break to make up my mind and I decided that I like this story too much to give it up!**


	13. Once upon a Time - Came the Last Hour

**Chap 12: Once upon a Time … ****Came the Last Hour**

_I am dead._

…

_Not exactly but close enough. What else can you call this? I call it death. Some might call it sleep. Sleep? As if! Sleep is the choice of letting your body relax with the certitude that when morning comes, you shall wake up._

_I am not sleeping._

_There is no waking up for me._

_I am dead._

…

… …

_Death … is really lonely._

_And boring._

_And I can only talk to myself._

_Why can I still talk?_

_It'd be easier if I could just sleep. I wish I were sleeping. Then I wouldn't feel in so much pain. I wish I was sleeping, as they all say. Because if I were, I knew that I'd wake up from this nightmare._

_But I'm not sleeping._

_This is not a nightmare._

_This is just reality._

…

_I miss waking up._

* * *

The sound of chains resonated in the morning sunrise but nobody was around to hear them. From the depth of the oceans, a figure rose. Her dark skin covered in forgotten symbols and writings that only she could read. Her long silver hair had grown so long it reached twice her height. At her wrists and ankles, heavy chains once of pure silver were now of a dark black and covered in seaweeds and shells. She was still wearing her beautiful blue dress or ceremonies from the day she had been sealed. Blinking wide ocean blue eyes open, she looked around the wideness of the blue horizon with the sun shining down on the glittering sea.

She breathed.

It felt odd. Her lungs hurt from the unusual amount of oxygen in them and she felt dizzy. All this air … it made her feel high and her body still could not get used to the change. The sunrays blinded her eyes that she immediately covered. The light felt too bright and too warm on her skin. Again, she would need to readapt herself.

Her eyes still closed, she let her hesitant fingers trail over the shackles at her wrists. She followed the chain and smiled giddily as she felt the broken end of it. It really had broken. She really was free. It was not a dream … although even if it were a dream, she wouldn't mind!

"I'm … alive?" She whispered, her voice muted out. Ah. It had been so long since she last used her voice. No worries … she had all the time to adjust to her rebirth.

After all … she's …

Alive.

* * *

Going back a few hours in time, Alice (or Arthur) looked up at the silent nations in her presence. After so long and she was finally telling them … oh well, she already had a plan to make then all believe this is a dream for when they get back. It should work.

Should.

She glanced at Feliciano. Why had it not worked on him the last time? Never mind! She'll figure it out later! It was probably a mistake in her spell or a glitch in the magic. Nothing she can't handle.

"I'm Alice Kirkland, the fourth child of Lady Britannia, and at the time, I was known as Albion." Alice firstly introduced herself with a story-telling tone. She saw recognition shine in many eyes, like Greece, France, Spain, like they were suddenly remembering lost memories. Well of course. After all, the point of a memory spell is not to erase a memory but to cloud and seal it. To make you forget. But anything forgotten can always be remembered. As proved Feliciano when he guessed her identity. How did he do that, anyway?

"Who the hell is Lady Britannia?" Alfred asked with a frown, irritated to see that he was among the rare ones to not recognise that name.

"Our mother. The previous personification of this island." Alistair answered with roll of his eyes as he took seat next to his sister. He was done with whatever mental-conversation he had been doing earlier.

"She died when we were young. Long story. But at some point in time, Alfred, I was taken and colonised by the Roman Empire."

Alfred blinked as his mouth dropped in disbelief.

"_You?_ _You_ got colonised?! But I thought you were the one to colonise people!"

"Honestly, Alfred, do you think I was always strong? You were weak too when you were young, so is everyone. And yes, I was taken by Rome. After his fall, I returned to my island and that was when I decided to change identity." Alice dismissively skipped the part where she was one to shoot that fatal arrow in Rome's heart. It would not be a pleasant memory if the Italies heard of this.

"But why?" France frowned in confusion.

Now that he remembered, there was indeed that cute little Celtic girl he used to watch over when they all lived under Rome's roof. She was rebellious and always challenging of her master. Rome would often have to beat sense into her (literally) and France remembers how he used to tend to the girl's injuries. At that time, his mother had died already. Rather than being taken by Rome, she rather died proudly, fighting for her freedom. Alesia was her downfall and also the moment when Francis learned that he was no longer a child and that he needed to grow stronger. Albion had reminded him of his mother and he treated her like a sister. He was devastated when she died … then he found Arthur. How could he have not seen the resemblance? No … it probably was because he saw the resemblance that he took in Arthur as his little brother. It was probably because of that memory of Albion that he could never fully hate England, no matter how many wars and horrors occurred between them. To think that all this time … England had been Albion all along …

"Because … A woman would never be taken seriously in that kind of world. You all remember how things were, don't you? How could you expect me to protect my land if people thought of my strength as a joke?" Alice answered vaguely. She wasn't lying. She was simply omitting half of the truth. If her gender had been her only issue, she would not have cared as much. No, the real reason for her change was because she wanted to die. She wanted to start fresh and turn a new page over her past sins, and also … because she couldn't let them all discover her true nature. If she could become someone else, and make Albion disappear from their minds, she could truly be happy.

"But Elisaveta never needed to do that …" Prussia countered, not fully believing the British girl. He knew that Alice was hiding so much more than what she told them.

"Well, Hungary never was a tiny country on an island in a strategic location that would cause everyone to hunt her down! She has more land, more people, and she was supported by Austria and you, Prussia!" Alice snapped back in irritation, the typical frown of Arthur was now gracing her face.

"What about your brothers?" Germany wondered. He wondered why he could not remember anything concerning Rome or his childhood. Prussia never told him anything and he never bothered asking. But now … discovering Arthur's past made him want to know more about his own past. Why did Alice look so familiar?

"Do we look like the perfect family to you, lad?" Ireland laughed and most of the Britons nodded in agreement.

"So wait! You turned yourself into a man and then … what?" Spain frowned, trying to set up all the pieces of this complicated puzzle in his mind.

"After I became a boy, I was renamed England and went to live with my father. Then, the Nordics came to fuck up our land, then get a history book or read up _English History_ on Wikipedia!" England concluded rapidly, not expanding on anything she just mentioned.

France nodded and seemed the only one to have clearly followed her tale. Probably due to the fact that France had more contacts with the British Isles throughout History than any other nation. After all, he even shared the same father as England, but neither told Germany about that, even though Prussia knows.

"So what happens with your … uh … Change? Aru?"

"Like I said before, Alistair sealed me upon my request. Except at the time, we weren't as skilled as we are now in magic and seals. So the seal I have is strong but only lasts one year. Once I year I need to turn back into Alice. Problem is: Alice is dead. I can't go around a world meeting in this form, right? So Alistair kind of … created this place. This Castle."

"Da, I wanted to ask: What kind of place is this? It feels odd." Russia asked with his sweet innocent smile that made everyone shiver.

"You mean it's completely fucked up! I mean why is there a room full of dragons?!" Spain roared before suddenly pausing as he wondered where that memory of dragons came from. China was frowning along with him and Wales had suddenly gotten interested and was scrutinising Spain, China and Russia … if one of them is responsible for hurting his dragon …

"It's another dimension." Alistair explained and every eye darted to him, even Peter eagerly listened, wanting to know more about this place.

"I created a breach in Time and Space to create this place. If you've noticed, the only way in to our castle is through magic portals and the main entrance is in our Union House. That's because that House we share is the same as this castle you are now in. The exact same place and the exact same building, except it happens to be in another dimension … like the reflection in a mirror. Time and Space can be manipulated from here and there is no limit anymore. That's why we can spend a whole year in here when it amounts to only one day in the real world. Of course, it's assuming you don't go mad." Alistair smirked as he spoke those last words and even Russia felt his blood freeze in fear. Alice rolled her eyes and continued her brother's explanation.

"I can't change immediately back to Arthur. The Change is painful and strains my body such that I usually need a recovery time of a few days. So I spend those days here and return to the real world with only an hour having past or maybe a day. It's complicated, but you get used to it."

The information slowly sunk in everyone's mind, making even lesser sense than before. It's as if reality held no truth or meaning anymore and all your beliefs were broken down. Everybody felt lost and disturbed by Alice's explanation. Everyone except …

"Ve … Alicia … Do you still have wings?"

A stunned silence followed the Italian's question. It seemed like Feliciano had not followed anything that Alice had explained. He had been too busy reminiscing in his memories and a detail struck out. A detail that not even France, Greece, Spain or the others knew about. A detail that only he and Lovino had seen. A detail that Rome nearly killed Albion for.

"Meeting's over. You're all going home." William declared suddenly and clapped his hands.

Suddenly, all Feliciano could see was darkness dragging him down deeper and deeper until he lost consciousness.

* * *

"Wings? Bloody wings?! Alice, how does that midget know about this?!" Ireland bellowed angrily at his sister.

"Quit yelling South! It wasn't her fault!" North yelled back at her brother and the two of them nearly broke into one of their typical fights, had Wales not interrupted them all.

"I cast the spell. They should wake up within morning hours and not remember a thing, so why does it matter?"

Alice wasn't listening to any of this, too shocked. Her eyes were wide and staring into space blankly. She jumped when she felt a calm hand land on her shoulder and Alistair ruffled her short blonde hair.

"I don't know what happened back then but it's of no matter anymore. Arthur, we'll change you back tonight. And you can forget everything tomorrow, aye?

The blonde woman smiled weakly at her crimson-haired brother and nodded. She decided she needed a rest and headed for her bed, bringing a confused Peter along with her. Before she disappeared around a corner, she shot a questioning look back at her siblings.

"What about the dead guys? Scandinavia's coming right?"

"Aye, we'll deal with it. You just rest."

"Alright." Alice nodded although she had a bad feeling. She didn't know why but the idea of letting her brothers out tonight sounded wrong and dangerous. But it was probably her imagination, right?

* * *

_**The next morning.**_

Feliciano expected to wake up in his bed along with his fratello and his nonno by his side. He had had a very odd and very realistic dream too. Somehow … it felt as real as the last time he had gone to the Castle in Wonderland. Uh. In fact, it didn't feel like a dream at all … oh yeah, Alice had said she would try to make them think it was a dream. So does that mean that it was a dream or not? Uh. He's so confused …

"Fratello … did you have that strange dream too …" Feliciano stopped in his track as he suddenly took notice of his surroundings.

It's not so much that things had changed. Not really. His house was still the way he had left it. He was in his bed as always and his brother was still sleeping away by his side. Only nonno was missing but that didn't trouble him much. What felt abnormal was something else entirely.

Veneziano … could no longer feel his land or his people.

North Italy … no, he didn't even feel like he was North Italy anymore. He felt like a … a …

Human …?

* * *

**AN: The mystery person at the beginning of this Chapter is ... I can only say that she's an OC and dates back from Ancient times. Yeah, there has been a lot of dead people coming back, hasn't there? Her name will be revealed in due time, so patience!**


End file.
